


All The Devils Are Here

by RandamHajile, turianosauruswrex



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 17:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 48
Words: 74,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12347181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RandamHajile/pseuds/RandamHajile, https://archiveofourown.org/users/turianosauruswrex/pseuds/turianosauruswrex
Summary: Angels, demons, gods, magical creatures, witches, warlocks, heaven, hell, other realms entirely-- all mixed with a healthy dose of nuclear winter. A self-indulgent AU that got way, way out of hand because we have no self-control.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> special shoutout to tumblr user powerfisto who this idea was originally discussed with [thumbs up emoji]

**Introduction:**

This AU is admittedly entirely self-indulgent and over-complicated, but that’s what you get when you spiral off wildly from what was literally a joke. There was a discussion about vampires with our pal Clem (URL Powerfisto) where the joke was made that Vulpes Inculta would make an excellent vampire, and, well, like most things in our AU, this took off rapidly as self-indulgent fun is wont to do. If it’s messy or things aren’t paced right or whatever, that’s because this fic is mostly us being like “oh wouldn’t it be AWFUL if XYZ happened” and then we write it and try to tie it together. However we DO believe we have something fairly amusing here, even if it is somewhat unrefined, and boy howdy there sure is a LOT of it, so we’re unleashing it to the public to spectate and consume. We’re trying to mold it into a more coherent narrative so please leave comments, suggestions, and critiques about our writing!!

Now to explain so you can jump in for the wild, wild, angsty ride, there needs to be a little context set down. This is a spinoff of our main AU, which we call It’s Always Sunny In The Mojave. What’s relevant to this supernatural AU is that the Legion took Vegas thanks to Jules McAllister, aka Courier Six, who served Caesar out of a desperate need for approval and a disgust for the NCR after growing up in Nipton and seeing the NCR’s negligence of the town. In this AU, she’s a talented witch (or so she believes…) who promptly gets crucified and burned at the stake by Vulpes Inculta after the Legion takes Vegas, thanks to her running her mouth to Caesar and no longer being needed.

Where things change for her is when Jessica Lexington, a talented blood mage and member of the anti-Legion resistance, steals her body and resurrects her, hoping to have a powerful ally against the Legion. A journey ensues to meet up with the rest of the resistance in order to plan a desperate final attack to kill Caesar, during which they encounter Vulpes Inculta, who Lexington recognizes as her long-lost cousin, Arthur Young, whom she was very close with growing up until their hometown was razed by the Legion, their families killed, and themselves enslaved. They kidnap Vulpes, who is of course a vampire (all frumentarii are), and Lexington believes she has convinced him to defect from the Legion. NATURALLY, they get betrayed and captured in Vegas, thanks to him, and that’s where this fic picks up, after Vulpes has failed to extract information from his cousin, opting instead for a  _ worse _ method of gaining her obedience, by forcing her to drink his own vampire blood and beginning the process to turn her, enthralling her to him forever. What a jackass.

**Some key facts about the world:**

If you can think of a magical creature it probably exists here in this AU. The frumentarii are all vampires, and the praetorians are all werewolves. Angels, demons, gods, holy magic and unholy magic, heaven, hell, the ethereal plane, the astral plane, other realities--it all exists in an over-complicated and intertwined way that we will pretend we planned and established since the beginning of this mess. Caesar claims to be a direct descendant of the literal god of war, Mars, although he is lying and is just your average schmuck, and the Legion is built off of a haphazard web of dark deals and demonic contracts Caesar contrived using the souls of his Legionaries as barter material for various demons and unholy (and just regular holy) entities. The NCR was nuked by Jules so they’re not doing so well, but before that happened, they were known for having a secular government that discriminated against magic and magically-gifted people/creatures. Vegas was run by Mr. House (until Jules killed him), who was a powerful mechromancer, able to enchant a great many constructs to serve as his securitron army, but which Jules also wrecked (thanks sweetie). To the north, New Canaanites (of which Lex and Vulpes could have been considered to be a part of simply by growing up Mormon) were known as talented paladins, healers, and monster hunters. Meanwhile, New Reno is controlled by the mob, specifically the Bishops and the Van Graffs, who the leader of, Silas Bishop, is literally a half-God, descended from The Chosen One, a local deity of the people of Arroyo. There’s a lot of excessive worldbuilding we put into this that we can’t list here, but hopefully the neat details shine through in our longass story of misery that we put our characters through for fun. Enjoy!   
  


**Character Profiles:**

**Jules McAllister**

Born in 2258 to her teenage mother, Julia “Jules” McAllister grew up in the generally vile town of Nipton, never knowing her father, only that her mother fled from New Reno to settle in California in order to protect her. As a child, Jules’s talent with magic became evident, despite her mother’s attempts to hide it, always telling Jules that she wouldn’t want witch hunters to find her, justifying their residence in Nipton by pointing out how the dark energies concentrated in town would mask any latent magic that Jules could display. She loved her mother and her mother loved her, doing her best to give Jules a decent life. Growing up was scrappy and tough, especially for a child as stubborn and rambunctious as Jules, but her mother, Eliza, did her best, giving Jules a fairly decent youth, and always struggling to try and improve Nipton just a little bit at a time. This all ended when Jules was 18: her mother suddenly fell ill, succumbing to a brain tumor she would reveal to Jules was the result of a demon deal she made right before Jules was born--Eliza would give her life once Jules was an adult, in return for the demon making sure Jules grew up safe. Jules was left alone, devastated, frightened, and bitter. She struggled to get by, working the streets and constantly being addled on chems, until a group of Followers of the Apocalypse, including Arcade Gannon, passed through Nipton. Seeing them, Jules begged for help to clean her up and turn her life around, and Arcade Gannon took pity on her, taking her to Primm to get her healthy and get her settled into a better life, even getting her a job as a courier with the Mojave Express. Life was beginning to be alright--even if Jules led a fairly solitary life, she had enough caps for food and drink and a bed to sleep in at night, and enough attitude to survive in the wastes. This all changed the fateful night an unfortunate man named Benny decided to try and kill her for an ancient magical artifact, shooting her twice in the head. A talented healer in Goodsprings used his magic to do his best to heal and revive her, and from there she set off on her quest for revenge, mind unhinged by bullets and heart filled with rage at the man that tried to kill her. Unfortunately, that was an excellent combo to allow her to be manipulated by the Legion, buying into their lies and dedicated herself to their cause, which only after her second death did she realize the intense error of. Where the fic begins she has started her long journey forward after understanding how wrong she was, growing a greater comprehension of what she’s done, learning to have better empathy, and feeling the deepest regret for her actions. Within her, underneath the pain and cruelty she committed, there is the potential for a much better person, one Jules has to discover and nurture. She had to start growing up sometime, and this is when that begins.

**Jessica Lexington**

Lex grew up in a peaceful town in southern Utah by the name of Marysvale, born in 2260, only a month older than her cousin Arthur. Mormon by birth, her youth was filled with an inheritance of the purity of hunting unholy creatures, an art she would be trained in when she got older, or at least, was supposed to have been trained in, had Marysvale not been destroyed. Before that, however, she was a middle child, separated by several years from her older and younger siblings, a situation her cousin Arthur Young also was in, which made them extremely close. As children they got into all sorts of trouble together--Lex was always bigger, brasher, stronger, louder--but Arthur was the clever one, shy but oh so smart. What Lex lacked in foresight Arthur made up for in his childish wisdom, and in return she was always there to beat back any bullies that would dare try and hurt him. Even back then, Lex held deep convictions about right and wrong, and always stood up for what she believed in. Those convictions would be greatly tested later, when the Legion arrived--she and Arthur were only nine years old when Marysvale was attacked. Almost everyone above the age of ten was slaughtered, killed for their fierce Mormon dedication to self-defense, and Lex and Arthur and all the other children were rounded up and put into slave pens, divvied up and sent off to different Legion camps. By incredible chance, she and Arthur were sent to the same camp in Arizona, except with her as a laborer slave, and him as a Legion recruit. They spent a year together in that Hell, Arthur using his cleverness to sneak out to his cousin so they could pray together in the night, begging God for strength. After about a year, in what was probably the last genuinely decent act Arthur would ever do, he helped his cousin escape the Legion camp, staying behind to make sure that no one would pursue her. She fled south, passing for an orphan boy and barely surviving in the streets, until a fateful day she pickpocketed just the right person--a member of the Resistance against the Legion. Taking pity on her, he brought her down south just below the border to be relocated somewhere peaceful. Lex would have absolutely none of this. Citing Mormon history and tradition, she argued she had every right to do everything she could to fight the Legion, and against the Resistance’s wishes, remained there to help the war effort. Scouting missions turned into infiltration missions which turned into sabotage missions which turned into assassinations which turned into mastering a sniper rifle, explosives, and poisons, but more dangerously, also dipping into one of the dark arts--blood magic. Although she wouldn’t call it dark, just misunderstood. Not many people have a righteous reason to use that much blood, but she was on a crusade, and would do ANYTHING to win it. Thus she continued on, even returning north to found a Mormon branch of the Resistance, named The Latter Day Nephites, afterwards returning to the Mojave to continue the fight there against the Legion. Absolutely brutal in her methods, her conviction never faltered, fighting not for revenge, but to protect everyone she could from ending up like she did, fighting as fiercely as she could to preserve and spread God’s love. Lex is an incredibly intense person, but even if she makes poor choices and practices brutal tactics, her heart is always in the right place, although that doesn’t always excuse what she’s done. Above this all is an affable charm, filled with a jovial cowboy attitude and a love of puns, and a deep and yearning desire for family that culminated in the misplaced love and dedication to her cousin, despite his monstrous vampirism. That love of hers is taken and used to break her, which is where this fic begins.

**Vulpes Inculta**

He’s the fuckin WORST. I mean you get the important parts from Lex’s bio. After she was freed he went on to discover a terrifying agency he never knew before, and realized how satisfying a bloodlust could be, efficiently rising in ranks until he became one of the frumentarii, initiated by blood into vampirism at the age of seventeen. Of course, even this he was too clever for, planning ahead to find a devious method to subvert the current Vulpes Inculta’s vampiric enthrallment over him as his sire, then killing him to take his place as master of the frumentarii vampires. All remnants of Marysvale he had long ago purged himself of, now existing as nothing but Vulpes Inculta, a fact his cousin would be fooled into disbelieving, leading to utter disaster for herself, Jules, and the Resistance. Misery ensues, all thanks to him. 

**Lafayette Jones**

A former NCR ranger, Lafayette Jones was born in 2245 and grew up as a psyker, possessing powerful telekinetic and psychic abilities, something that would put her in grave danger in the NCR were her talents ever to be discovered. She hid them efficiently, joining the army and having a storied career, even marrying a fellow ranger. Disaster struck, however, at the first battle of Hoover Dam--he was captured and executed by the Legion, and Lafayette could do nothing to help. After the NCR gets nuked and the Legion takes Vegas, Lafayette decides to remain in the city, using her talents openly to aid the underground resistance forming there. She’s calm, collected, and not without humor or pride. Despite the deep pains her past holds, she still dedicates herself to fighting for the future, no matter how hopeless it seems.


	2. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes Inculta sees the results of his handiwork.

“How are we feeling, Jessie?” Vulpes runs his hands along the cell bars, pausing in front of the one that holds his cousin. She’s curled up on the floor, across the cell from the courier trembling and cowering in the corner, surrounded by some sigils crudely scrawled in blood-- her _own_ blood, not human but that of some unknown deity, he’s been able to smell divinity on her for _months_ but of course  _she_ doesn't know the truth of what she is-- but to her he pays no mind. “Are we ready to cooperate?”

“Like _hell._ ” In a flash Jessie launches herself at the bars, arms outstretched and reaching for his neck, but just as quickly he gives her a single command:

“ _Stop_.”

His voice reverberates, though the tight quarters say it shouldn't, and Jessie freezes, her fingers fractions of an inch away from the bars. There's a look in her eyes, one he hasn't seen in over a decade: terror, at him and the power a single word of his now wields over her, quickly replaced by _rage,_ bubbling and seething at her inability to do anything against him, thanks to the fresh vampire blood now coursing through her veins.

“Much better.” Vulpes rests his arm on the bars and his head on his hand and looks her over with a sharp-toothed grin. The sigils she'd carved into herself, gone, blood smeared on her chest, eyes sunken and cheeks hollow. “Welcome back, Jessie.”

“What,” she rasps, “have you _done?_ ”

“You know what I did, Jessie, I told you. You wanted _family_ , didn't you? Well. Now you've got it. You've got your beloved cousin-- _forever._ ” He smirks, watching her barely-contained fury. “But where are my _manners_ , you look _famished_. Un-death _is_ exhausting, isn't it?”

Vulpes looks past her, to the courier watching from the corner, wide-eyed and hugging her knees behind her sigils-- useless scribblings, even from here he can see that-- and nods towards her, voice echoing again as he speaks. “ _Kill her_.”

Jessie's face shifts, flickering briefly with horror before reverting to something savage, almost animalistic as she whirls to face the courier. The courier can barely eke out a plea for her to stop, much less throw up a ward or summon protection, before Jessie pounces and sinks her teeth into her throat, ripping it open with a spray of blood. Vulpes can hear her racing heartbeat slow and finally stop as she wheezes her last, eyes dull but still wide with the shock of Jessie's attack, and he wonders idly if godblood tastes as good as it smells.

“We _are_ having fun, aren't we?” He unlocks the cell and swings the door wide open for his cousin. “Now that _she's_ out of the way. Her kind deserves to _burn_ , but leaving her to you was nearly as satisfying.”

Jessie doesn't move, just lingers over the courier's corpse.

“Come along, Jessie. Caesar awaits.”

She doesn't move.

“ _Come here_.”

She obeys. Slowly, deliberately, but she obeys. Glaring up at him, she looks better than moments before-- still very much dead, as they both are, but less gaunt, closer to passing for the living. “I hope yer _happy_ , Arthur.”

“I am.”

“Our family's _dead_. Our bloodline is _dead_ , here, because of _you_.”

“You think that bothers me.” Vulpes chuckles. “ _I_ will live forever.  _We’ll_ be alive together forever. Isn't that what you wanted?”

She lunges for him one last time but he commands her again, _stand down_ , and she does, fists clenched and shaking at her sides. He grabs her face and forces her to look him in the eye, his fingers digging into her still-bloody cheeks.

“Listen well, Jessie. _I_ made you what you are. I'm not fool enough to threaten you with death but I can make this much, _much_ worse for you. You are in my thrall, under my every command, until the end of time itself and _you are not to harm me_. Everything I say, you will do, without question, without hesitation. Do you understand?”

She nods, wordlessly, still glaring at him fiercely enough that it could almost pierce his armor.

“Excellent.” He turns for the exit, motioning for her to follow and checks to make sure she is. Just the thought, the mere _thought_ of having his cousin's strength and power and _fury_ at his beck and call, why, it’s almost _intoxicating_. Their childhoods had seen her taking the lead, _protecting_ him from schoolyard bullies, in charge of most of their escapades-- how the tables have turned. Leading the frumentarii gives him a taste of power, but commanding his _cousin_ , that’s entirely different. He's no longer the small, meek child he was in Marysvale; now he's something _greater_ , greater than he'd dreamed possible.

Absentmindedly, he sucks the blood off his thumb. He was right-- godblood is _delicious_.


	3. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules McAllister adjusts to her new afterlife.

Whoever says death is easy, just like-- like fading away, or drifting into a distant light, they're full of _shit_.

Jules should know-- this is her third time leaving the mortal plane, though the first two, she reckons, were...less _complete_ than this one. She hadn't woken up to see herself bleeding out from a gunshot to the head in Goodsprings, or to see her charred corpse lashed to a cross on the south side of Vegas, no, both times she'd found herself blinking back to consciousness after the hard work of resurrection had already been done.

Not here, though. Third time's the charm, after all.

Something had gone wrong with Lex's spell-- Jules didn't know what; she was barely familiar with her own innate magic, much less _blood_ magic-- but whatever it was had left Lex comatose on the cell floor, dead to the world, possibly _actually_ dead for all Jules knew.

She couldn't risk Vulpes coming back and killing her himself when he saw what happened to his cousin-- or worse, Lex _un-dying_ and killing her herself-- so Jules had scraped her knuckles raw on the cell’s concrete floor and used her blood to draw a hasty ring of sigils guarding against vampires-- or at least she _thought_ those were the ones she was drawing; her memory of Lex's lessons in blood magic was spotty at best in her panic-- around herself in the farthest corner from the door. And then she’d waited, for a sign of life from Lex, for _anything_ , praying to whatever god would listen that Lex would survive and rip Vulpes’ head from his  _fucking_ shoulders.

Maybe she shouldn't have cursed in her prayers.

Vulpes had come back, Lex had gone for him, but he did _something_ with his voice that made her stop...he _commanded_ her, and she _listened_ , like she was a trained dog. Even from the other side of the cell Jules could feel the resentment coming off Lex in waves. And then-- then he'd said to _kill_ her, and Jules’ stomach dropped.

“Lex, don't--” Jules had tried to use her magic, make a barrier to keep her out but she was too fast and before Jules could say any more Lex's teeth were in her throat, bleeding her dry. She could feel herself slipping away; she scrabbled and fought for her consciousness, for her _life_ , to no avail, like hiking up a mountainside that kept slipping out from under her. She couldn't think anymore, she couldn't _breathe_ , and the last thing she saw was Vulpes smiling through the cell bars and a look of horror dawning on Lex's face.

Now she's standing over her own corpse, gingerly feeling the gash in her neck as she looks at the same on the body before her. She inhales but no breath fills her lungs; the blood in the wound is still tacky and trickling down her skin but she has no pulse. Vulpes and Lex are long gone. It's just her, all alone again.

Jules blinks and she's no longer in the cell; instead she's in the desert-- _a_ desert, maybe the Mojave, maybe not. Still alone. She starts walking, one hand still holding her neck. The sky above her is dark and full of stars, like it had been in Zion, and she has no trouble seeing in front of her. Is this what waits for everyone after they die? Or is it her own personalized purgatory?

Something makes a noise behind her-- she spins to investigate but there's nothing there, but when she turns back around she sees tents-- a campfire, with people around it. She steps closer to investigate, cautious, and can barely suppress a gasp when she makes out the face looking right at her-- _Vulpes_ , just as shocked to see her as she is shocked to be there. Between the two of them, with her back to Jules, sits Lex, hunched and sullen. The lights of Vegas are pinpricks in the distance, at least three days’ journey away, though Jules herself had only been walking for a few minutes, at most.

Either from Vulpes’ expression or Jules’ wheezing attempt to say something, Lex starts to turn around, but before she fully registers the sight before her Jules is gone, back in the empty, starry wasteland she'd come from. She lets herself fall to her knees and stay still for a moment, trying to process what’s happening.

She's dead. Okay.

Lex had been turned into a vampire and ordered to kill her. ...Okay.

She'd just blinked back onto the mortal plane, however briefly, and people had _seen_ her. ... _Okay_.

No, nope, no, being _dead_ , for real this time, it's still just out of her grasp, it doesn't feel _real_ to her even though she's not breathing and still bleeding profusely from a grievous neck wound without a beating heart. She's _dead_ \-- then how had she gone back?

Well. It's not like she doesn't have time to figure that out. As long as she's alone here, might as well keep walking.


	4. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jessica Lexington comes back from the dead, to her infinite anguish.

Lex grasped herself tighter, curling as deeply into her own frightening silence as she could. The sudden emptiness was terrifying but the void she now occupied was better than everything else in the jail cell--better than the deafening _noise_ and _warmth_ emanating from the other corner… better than the _scent_ …

All her years of blood sorcery had failed her. A decade of her craft had ultimately amounted to _nothing_ , her spell having failed to protect her from the vampire’s curse… and now she was no longer the master of her own blood. No, no that control had been taken from her, eaten away by the fevers from the turn. She had felt the heat grow as the room swam before her dizzied eyes, praying to God with all desperation possible that her magic was going to work, but no help came to her. The pain had ebbed into every inch of her limbs as she lay there, breaths rasping and body shaking, the vampire blood wracking through her body until it could no longer resist--the pain after her heart had stopped was unique and smothering.

When she was a child, five years old, she and her cousin Arthur had wandered off from their parents on a hot, sunny day like any other, traipsing down the edge of the river that ran through Marysvale. The memory is muddled, distant, maybe they were chasing a frog, or a dragonfly--it doesn’t matter, they made their way down, scrambling to some rocks by the deeper part of the rushing water. Scale was something she and Arthur had yet to grasp--her small, child frame was quickly engulfed by the river when she slipped and fell, pulling her along and under into the deeper eddies the water had formed. She remembered the panic clearly. Desperately clawing for the surface--more water than air between gasps, the edges of her vision going dark as she struggled to breathe, before the strong arms of her father had whisked her out of the river after he had rushed over, hearing Arthur’s cries...

When her heart had stopped it was the same. _Drowning_.

But with so, so much more pain, crackling through her body mercilessly, consuming her mind and her thoughts, and _no one_ to pull her away from the darkness. There was no relief--as the aches began to fade, the world brightened into an all-consuming fugue assaulting her. The dim bulb lighting the cell could have been the sun the way it burned in her vision--her shuddered breaths now echoing torrents of air sweeping across the musty floor she was curled up on. She could smell every bit of earthen filth, every piece of dusty fabric, every dry, chalky piece of the concrete floor, and the tinny metal bars of the cell...

Yet none of it compared to _Jules_. God, God… Jules…

Lex curled into herself harder, clutching herself with more strength than had previously been _humanly_ possible. Her chest was silent, and when she held her breath to try and block out the _luxurious_ scent of Jules, she found, to her horror, that she could do so _indefinitely._ She lay there, no pulse, no breath, fighting away the drum beat of Jules’s heart in her ears as she tried to grasp what had passed--

 _She had_ **_failed_ ** _._

Footsteps broke her concentration, the sound resonating and bouncing through the rooms in ways more intricate and exquisite than Lexington could have known a sound could be.  

“How are we feeling, Jessie?”

She heard her cousin’s fingers drag over the jail cell’s bars, the small taps reverberating in the metal in ways Lex could now detect--suddenly distant sensations, his voice snapping the world, in all its vibrancy, in all its _new_ reality, back to her--a dam, cracked, and a deluge of seething that settled into every inch of her body, chest tightening, fingers clenched.

“Are we ready to cooperate?”

From deep in her, a growl bubbled out--

“Like _Hell._ ”

She breathed in, scents stinging as the pressure she had clenched herself in uncoiled itself like a cracking whip--she leapt forward, otherworldly force and agility launching herself at the bars, fingers clawed and reaching for Arthur’s neck--

“ _Stop._ ”

The world nailed itself into her head, splitting her open and laying her bare as it drove itself deep and sharp into her rage, pinning all her fury against a wall her cousin had created by speaking a _single_ word. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. Her arms lay outstretched, _inches_ away from her cousin’s neck, trembling. She was engulfed by his icy glare--dropped into the freezing pool of his lifeless eyes as she stares back into them in _terror_.

But there was something more primal than terror that had never failed her--

 _Hate._ **_Hate_ ** _. Hate, deep, burning, roiling hatred. HATE._

It registered with Arthur, a fanged grin going over his cold face as he leaned against the bars, casually holding his head on his hand.

“Much better,” he trilled at her, pleased, surveying his… _creation_ , “welcome back, Jessie.”

God, GOD… this had HAPPENED… this IS happening--she’s dead, oh God, she’s dead, at HIS hands. Burning through his grip over her mind, she managed to spit out a few words--

“What… have you _done?_ ”

“You know what I did, Jessie, I told you. You wanted _family_ , didn't you? Well. Now you've got it. You've got your beloved cousin-- _forever._ ”

His words singed her in the same way as reaching out to touch a candle’s flame. She had LOVED him… with EVERY part of her being… she had **LOVED** **_him._ **

“But where are my _manners_ , you look _famished_ . Un-death _is_ exhausting, isn't it?”

She had loved him… she had loved him… he was her BLOOD… and now hers BELONGED to him… she had given him her heart and he had taken its _pulse_ . She was cold now, but seared with more heat than she had ever before. Her COUSIN… _ARTHUR!!_

Still smiling, he glanced over towards Jules in the corner, a quick, aloof nod in her direction before his next command--

“ _Kill her_.”

KILL her?? Kill--kill JULES? Oh God, oh God no, not--

The scent hit Lexington fully. _Blood_ . Scrawled over the floor, pulsing out of Jules’s knuckles, white hot and bright and _exquisite_. It clawed at Lex, strangling everything else, red taking over her whole vision, her whole WORLD, steady thunderclaps of a pulse ringing in her ears. A river of blood engulfed her, enveloped her, caressed her, seeping into every crevice of her mind, dominating every muscle of her cold body, dripping hot and fragrant and wet.

The thunderclaps slowed.

The blood kept flowing.

The way it touched Lex is as if she’s never been touched before, never breathed before, never felt ANYTHING before, now making her _whole_ . Every part of her _needed_ it, and as it rushed into her, the world coalesced again. Red became flesh.

There was _silence_.

Slowly, sensation tingled back into Lex, starting at her extremities and working its way up to her head, feeling the wetness on her hands and seeing the body they clutch before what’s truly in them prickled back into Lex’s mind.  

 _Jules_. Jules…

Lex knew this is what _he_ wanted. The shock and stab of mourning only clutched her for a few seconds before the waves of _hatred_ began to wrack through her every pore. She felt so… _good_ , so sated, so _strong_ . With the hunger gone, other sensations now consumed her. She could _smell_ her cousin behind her, ash and mint and paper, hear every little shift in his stance, every single observed part of him plucking deeper into her and tearing into new, dark places that throbbed raw and furious.

“We _are_ having fun, aren't we?”

The click of the cell door lock and the creak of the old metal hinges swinging open screeched and twisted and screamed in a thousand ways.

“Now that _she's_ out of the way. Her kind deserves to _burn_ , but leaving her to you was nearly as satisfying.”

Her vision was now a thousand times more acute, as if she was looking through a perpetual rifle scope, but magnified across her entire sight. Every hair, scratch, bruise, and _gash_ across Jules was painted magnificently, a lifeless masterpiece for Lex to contemplate. A picture _she_ painted, with her _teeth,_ leaving behind a canvas of blood for Jules to lay on. Oh Lord, God in Heaven, have mercy on Jules’s soul, she may have _earned_ this but in no way did she _deserve_ THIS.

And, God Almighty, strike down those who have wrought this…

“Come along, Jessie. Caesar awaits.”

Another knife dug into the back of her head, prying her open, but Lex welded herself to the ground with her burning. _No…_

“ _Come here_.”

The knife was twisted, and Lex shattered. Her legs, in a million pieces, slowly lifted her towards her cousin. She stared again into his cold face--the last remnant of her family carved forever in his pale, undead flesh.

Striking far worse than a Legion lash, the same thought came to _her_ \--she is the last Lexington. _Forever_.

“I hope yer _happy_ , Arthur.” she spat out, like chewing glass.

“I am.”

A succinct response. No, he wouldn’t _really_ understand what he’s done...

“Our family's _dead_ . Our bloodline is _dead_ , here, because of _you_.”

She and Arthur were supposed to _revive_ their family… they were going to defeat the Legion together, return home to their people _triumphant_ and live the lives that had been taken from them so long ago… they were supposed to have _families_ and a _community_ and _generations_ to come… gone. Gone, all of it, charred and destroyed like their family bible that Arthur had burned in front of her. They were dead, and so were their genes, their legacies, their _everything_ . They were the **_end_ ** **.**

“You think that bothers me.” Arthur chuckles, “ _I_ will live forever. _We’ll_ be alive together forever. Isn't that what you wanted?”

**NO.**

A shrill noise erupted from her as she tears away from his command, lunging again and outstretching her pale fingers towards his neck, to just _grab_ and _wrench_ his neck and--

“Stand. Down.”

The words punched her, knocking her cold breath out of her as she froze once more in place, mind bruised and compliant, reeling. Arthur’s smirk pierced into her like an icicle, and all she could do was twitch as he reached out and grabed her face, his clean hands smearing themselves with Jules’s blood, still on her cheeks, as his nails dug into her skin, turning her head to lock eyes with his.

“Listen well, Jessie. _I_ made you what you are. I'm not fool enough to threaten you with death but I can make this much, _much_ worse for you. You are in my thrall, under my every command, until the end of time itself and _you are not to harm me_. Everything I say, you will do, without question, without hesitation. Do you understand?”

She did, oh, she _did_.

But what _he_ didn’t understand was not that she’d have to serve him until the end of time, but that _he’d_ have to _have her_ by his side _until the end of time_ . She was dead now, and she fully intended to haunt him every minute for the rest of their wretched eternal lives, until he couldn’t look at her without hearing the screams of every single one of their dead family, without seeing their burning, unending glares in hers. She will _avenge_ them all, she swears to _God_.

Lexington nodded silently at Arthur, never breaking away from his icy eyes.

“Excellent.” he said, turning away and motioning for her to follow.

She walked forward after him, taking the first step in a long journey that he cannot possibly comprehend the consequences of.


	5. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas Bishop has the first in a long series of recurring nightmares.

He's in a desert, like the one he walked a quarter century ago, looking for someone he'd lost but never found. The night air is comfortably cool and still, the only sound that of his own blood pumping through his veins.

This isn't a plane he's familiar with-- neither living nor dead, not corporeal nor ethereal, it just... _is._ It's limbo, and how he got here is beyond him. Is he dreaming? Is he comatose? Is he dead after all, waiting on final judgment? If he's dead he'd like to at _least_ meet the sonofabitch responsible and shake his hand-- takes talent to kill off Silas Bishop.

The stars above him move in his peripheral vision but stop whenever he looks upwards, like children caught sneaking outside after curfew. No moon in sight, though, not even the shadow of where it should be. Empty sand stretches as far as he can see. No signs of life, no flora or fauna, no distant lights from a lonely homestead-- just him, him and whatever god has jurisdiction over this place. His stomach won't settle. Neither will his vision as the scenery seems to vibrate in front of him, only whatever he's directly looking at in sharp relief as the edges of everything else blur and scatter before coming back together. Godblood lets him get away with much a normal man can't, but this is not one of those things. Wherever he is, he is _trespassing_ , and he knows well that divine retribution for even the smallest slight comes quick and harsh.

A small young woman shuffles past him in a daze, one hand pressed to her neck, black oozing through her fingers and dripping down her arm, off her elbow to leave a slick trail in the sand. Silas watches, fixated on the brief look he got at her face-- she’s _familiar_ , he _knows_ her somehow, or at least he _should_. He darts after her, dodging the inky puddles in her wake.

“Hey! You alright?”

The girl-- she's even smaller and younger now, maybe about fifteen-- spins around at his voice and in the moment before his vision shifts out of focus again he catches a fleeting glimpse of her features and feels the air knocked out of him. That _face_ \-- twenty-six years and he hasn't forgotten; how could he? This _is_ the land of the dead, it has to be if _she's_ here.

Silas blinks, but the woman's figure before him doesn't sharpen. Neither does she react to his presence. She's frozen in place, staring through him, as she opens her mouth and croaks out a single word: “Lex…?”

She falls to her knees with a cry, both hands flying to cover her mouth. For a reason he can't quite name, Silas reaches out to comfort her but his hand passes right through her shaking shoulder-- one or both of them are incorporeal. He takes a step back, the black from her neck pooling around her and lapping against the soles of his shoes. Against his better judgment he reaches down to touch it, and on his fingers it's no longer black but a deep, rich crimson, thick and copper-scented, leaving a stain on his skin as it drips down to the ground.

He looks down at the woman in horror, blinks again-- and jolts awake, home in his own bed, his wife stirring sleepily next to him.

“Silas?” she murmurs, turning on the lamp beside her. “What's wrong?”

He rubs his face with his hands. “It’s nothin’, Claudia...just a dream, that's all.”

Claudia doesn't seem to believe him, but she lets the matter drop. She reaches over to turn the lamp off again, and just before the room falls into darkness again Silas glimpses his fingertips, still stained red.


	6. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules starts to learn the ins and outs of being dead.

Time works differently when you're dead. Rather, time is _meaningless_ when you're dead. Jules learns that quickly.

Quickly? She doesn't have a metric anymore, not here in the endless night of an endless wasteland, where the sky moves arbitrarily and she can't even begin to find the constellations her mother taught her about as they lay on the roof of their house in Nipton, Jules’ attention riveted to Eliza's every word about heroes and monsters and _gods_ walking the earth in ancient times. Where had the gods gone, Jules had asked, why didn't they live with humans anymore?

Eliza had never given her an answer.

Caesar had, once, when she'd first sworn herself to the Legion. The gods were still here, he assured them all, why, he was living _proof_ , he was the son of Mars himself. What a load of brahmin shit that turned out to be, but she'd still swallowed it, unwilling to even begin to question him.

Jules has nothing but time on her hands anymore, nothing to do but mull over what she'd done in her twenty-five years alive. It's not nearly as much as she'd hoped, her early adulthood marred by so much pain and death, starting with her mother's-- and, she supposes, ending with her own.

Her mother...Jules hopes she isn't walking alone in her own wasteland, even though she knows hoping her mother's soul is at rest is futile. She isn't anywhere peaceful, not with the deal she made. But in that case, Jules thinks, she hopes that when Caesar _dies_ he's in the same place her mother is so Eliza can rip him _limb from limb_ for what he did to her daughter.

Jules rolls over onto her stomach and starts idly drawing sigils in the sand. This one to guard against nightmares-- it had surrounded her bed when she was little-- this one to curse someone with bad luck-- how many times had she used that on boys at home?-- this one more recent in her memory...a ward against vampires. Too little, too late.

She swipes a hand through her scribbles, leaving an angry red smear arcing across the ground. Her neck hasn't stopped bleeding since she died, the steady _drip-drip-drip_ of blood hitting sand the only sound aside from her own footsteps. It's _beyond_ maddening, worse than the creaking bones of decrepit buildings in the Divide and the ghosts’ death rattles against decayed music tapes in the Sierra Madre. But there she had direction. There she could get out.

It's no use, _none_ of it's any use; she can cast as many spells as she wants, appeal to whatever deity she thinks can hear her in this desolation but it won't work _nothing_ will work oh _god_ she's trapped here forever she'll never see her mother or Lex or _any other being_ _ever again_ she's _alone_ for eternity she's alone she's _ALONE ALONE ALONE ALONE AL_

A wordless scream tears from Jules’ throat, pent-up rage and frustration and fear and _grief_ distilled into its purest form, clear and shattering. She doubles over on herself, claws at her face, her arms, just trying to _feel something_ again but there's _nothing,_ no skin scraping up under her nails, no beads of blood blooming up from a scratch; she's _nothing_ anymore, nothing but a lost little girl again, wandering aimlessly but without the hope of being found.

When her scream fades she hears the too-familiar _drip-drip-drip_ , constant and _deafening_ in the surrounding silence. But there's something else now, too, a dull rumble she more feels in her chest than hears properly.

Jules looks up and takes in a sharp breath. She's in the Lucky 38 penthouse, kneeling before Caesar again just like she'd been the last time she saw him. But he's not looking at her; he's looking _past_ her, at someone over her shoulder. She bolts to her feet and scrambles out of the way, turning to get a look at who _else_ is here.

Vulpes. Smug as ever, with Lex glowering at his side as he speaks to Caesar. Jules can't make out the words but the rumbling in her chest stops when his mouth does, resuming, deeper, when Caesar answers whatever Vulpes said.

Lex tilts her head and her nose crinkles the slightest bit, as though she'd detected a change in the room when Jules materialized. She doesn't see Jules, no one does, but she's clearly sensed something's _different_. A glance at Vulpes’ face shows no change in his expression-- flat and cold as ever.

Until Jules moves around to his other side for a closer examination and she sees his lips twitch just _barely_ downwards, his eyes drift away from Caesar to look almost directly at her-- can he _smell_ her? Even dead as she is?

The edges of Jules’ vision start to fray, the penthouse a tapestry that hasn't stood the test of time, but she uses the last of her concentration and willpower to scream again, managing words this time: a piercing “ _FUCK YOU!_ ” inches away from Vulpes’ face. A terrible howl, loud and sharp and almost _tangible_ , rips and echoes around the penthouse with her words; even incorporeal she feels it rake through her body as all three faces before her fall in varying degrees of shock at the sound.

And then they're gone, shreds of paper scattered in a storm, and Jules is back in the desert, completely spent and lying on her back again, staring up and searching for comfort in the unfamiliar stars.


	7. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes shows off his newly enthralled cousin and, to his dismay, encounters a very angry ghost.

“Come along, Jessie.” Vulpes motions his cousin into the elevator that will take them to the Lucky 38’s penthouse. He’s eager to present his new creation to Caesar, show him how her will bends to him and him alone...but she’s dallying. Still wiping the blood from her face as she walks. “We can’t keep Caesar waiting any longer.”

She follows, glowering at him. To her credit, she’s never shied away from looking him directly in the eye since he turned her. The doors slide shut and they start to rise, tinny music filling the silence between them until Vulpes speaks again.

“This should go without saying, but _you won’t harm Caesar_ , either. I expect you have enough common sense to avoid making that grievous a mistake. It would be a death sentence, even for soldiers of our...ability.”

She winces as his command echoes through her head. “I ain’t _stupid_ , Arthur.”  It’s the first she’s said to him since they left the cells, though he’s been giving her a too-casual rundown of the limitations of her new state and the new power she’d be using-- all at his will, of course.

“I know. But I _don’t_ believe you’re above taking any way out of this you can.” He’d have to do something about her accent. Too reminiscent of their shared past. “And I wouldn’t want to lose my dear _cousin_ , not when I’ve just got her back after a decade apart.”

She seethes, and the doors to the penthouse open with a quiet _hiss_. Vulpes leads her down the stairs to where Caesar waits, flanked by praetorians whose expressions turn to disgust at their approach. He gives them a curt nod, barely cordial. “Ave, Lord Caesar.”

Caesar looks up at him, his frown deepening as his eyes fall on Jessie. He motions for the two of them to stop a few yards from him. “Vulpes Inculta. What are you doing with _her?_ I thought she was one of your prisoners.”

“Yes, my lord, but I think you’ll be...quite _pleased_ with her.” Vulpes pulls her forward so she’s at his side. “Say hello, Jessie.”

Through gritted teeth, she growls out a sullen “Howdy.”

“ _Speak_ **_properly_** _, Jessie_.”

He sees another shiver go down her spine and she stiffens, her words slower and chosen more deliberately. “Ave, _Lord Caesar_.”

If Caesar has any thoughts on her so far, he keeps them to himself. “So you turned another wastrel. Am I supposed to be impressed?”

“I think you will be, my lord. You see, this is my cousin-- she’s a _resistance_ leader, she knows their secrets, their codes, anything we could ever hope to learn about them we have _right here_. She was an unstoppable force in life, and now even more so in death. And she’s _entirely_ under _my_ command. Her sole purpose now is to serve the Legion.”

Something shifts in the air-- a sudden electric crackling, a different scent drifting by him, sweet and smoky compared to the sweat and grime of the Legion, the whiffs of alcohol still lingering in the casino’s air. Caesar doesn’t notice-- why would he? He’s only a human, his senses are nowhere near as keen as Vulpes’-- but Jessie does; he sees her face twitch and head tilt in his periphery. The crackling moves closer to him, stops at his side opposite Jessie, the rich scent even stronger now. He knows it, he’d know it anywhere after the months he spent living with it day in and day out:  _godblood_.

Caesar is talking to him, something about the use Jessie will serve, but Vulpes isn’t paying attention anymore, isn’t even _looking_ at Caesar anymore, instead letting his gaze drift to the empty space next to him that’s making the hair on his arms stand on end. Nothing’s there-- nothing _living_ at least-- but _her_ presence is obvious.

“She’ll--” Caesar is cut off by a sudden, deafening howl, furious and despairing, whipping through the penthouse with the force of a Mojave sandstorm. Instinctively Vulpes takes a step back to steady himself from the shock and Jessie stumbles a little too, her surprise and _fear_ evident in her eyes. He should have known killing the courier would come back to bite him; you can’t just kill someone with divine heritage and not expect repercussions. With any luck this would be the _only_ one.

Caesar breaks the silence that falls after the shriek. “What the _fuck_ was that?”

Vulpes composes himself with a long breath. “I believe it’s a banshee, my lord. They herald death, if the dying or deceased is... _great_ enough.”

“And why,” Caesar continues, slowly, fixing him with a cold stare, “would there be a _banshee_ in my tower? Do you think _my_ death is imminent, Vulpes?” It’s less a question than a threat.

“Of course not, my lord.”

“Then _what_.”

Vulpes could tell him. He could say the courier caused it, that her corpse was lying exsanguinated in the basement and that if anyone would summon or, gods forbid, _become_ a banshee, it’d be the only _real_ demigod in the Lucky 38. He could tell him all of this-- and get left outside, tied up to await sunrise for his trouble.

So he doesn’t. “Who can say? I left some slaves in the cell with my cousin for her to drain after her transformation-- perhaps they were considered _important_ before their capture.”

“Interesting.” It’s clear Caesar hasn’t bought it, but he’s willing to let the subject drop. “I want you to deal with it. Immediately. I trust you can handle this, Vulpes, since it’s your fault it’s here.”

“Of course, my lord.” Vulpes ducks his head so Caesar won’t see his rapidly souring expression. “As you wish.” He grabs Jessie’s arm and turns to leave, pulling her along with him.

On the casino’s main floor Vulpes waves two more legionaries over to him, frumentarii disguised as rich gamblers preparing to go out onto the Strip. “Before you go, I want the doors and windows salted. Lord Caesar doesn’t want any lingering _spirits_ interfering with his plans. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The pair dart off, and Vulpes continues leading Jessie towards the cells.

“We’re going to take care of the rest of this,” he mutters, “or _you_ are, at least.”

The courier’s body is still in the cell-- of course it is, but he couldn’t be too sure dealing with a demigod-- crumpled in a congealing pool of crimson, a testament to her violent and none-too-soon demise. Vulpes swings the metal door open again and steps clear of the entry. “ _Take it out of here_.”

Jessie has remained stoic up to this point, but the look she shoots him has tinges of anger and horror around the edges. “Arthur--”

“ _Do it_. We have to get rid of it in order to have any _peace_ around here.”

She obeys. Of course she does. Commanding her as he’s done isn’t typical of his new _recruits_ , but he knows Jessie’s will and that she’d do anything in her power to resist. He has to break her first, wield this power over her until she knows her place. She’ll take much longer than soldiers born into the discipline of the Legion, but they have _plenty_ of time. He’s patient, if nothing else.

Vulpes leads her out of the tower and out of the city-- no one pays any mind to a legionary with a slave carrying a corpse anymore, or if they do they keep it to themselves. He doesn’t speak to his cousin again until they’re well away from New Vegas, alone in the hills to the west.

“ _Put it down there_ , in the pit.” She does, watching as he sprinkles gasoline and a leather pouch of salt over the body lying on a pile of charred bones from previous victims and hands her a box of matches. “ _Burn it_.”

Jessie hesitates. He can see the struggle to resist his commands play out on her face, hands shaking and gripping the box in what would be a white-knuckle grip were her blood still flowing. “This isn’t right, Arthur. She-- she should have a proper burial, she needs her last rites, prayers--”

“Why?” Vulpes laughs. “She didn’t believe the same as you, she didn’t believe _anything_ in life. She was a _witch_ , a _heathen_. The odds that she would even appreciate your effort are nonexistent at best.”

“She deserves better.”

“ _Why?_ ”

“Arthur…” Despite Jessie’s efforts she’s pulled a match out of the box and her hand is hovering with it, trying her best to avoid striking it. “Don’t do it like this.”

Vulpes tilts his head, watching her with a smile teasing at the edge of his lips. “...Is this for _her_ , Jessie, or is it for _you?_ ”

“It’s for _Jules_ , Arthur.”

“No, I think it isn’t. You want the satisfaction of defiance. Of getting your way despite my commands. You want to hold on to whatever independence you have left-- you have _none_. _None_ , Jessie. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be for you.” He smiles into her glare. “ _Now burn it_.”

The match strikes and flares and falls onto the corpse, sending acrid smoke rising into the clear midnight air. Vulpes turns without a glance back. “We’re going to Dry Wells, Jessie. It needs exorcising as well. You know basic exorcisms, don’t you?”

Her footsteps fall in behind him, heavier than usual. “I’m not stupid.”

“Excellent. You’ll be useful to have along, then.”

“That’s not what I was talking about. I know you felt what happened in the penthouse, too. Even _Caesar_ did. You can’t get rid of her this easily. Not a banshee, not if she’s that strong.”

Vulpes tosses another smile over his shoulder at her. “Then if _you’re_ so knowledgeable about banshees, _you’ll_ just have to banish it yourself.”

Jessie falls silent.

Three nights into their journey it happens again-- the _crackling_ , the scent of godblood wafting past the campfire they didn’t need but had built out of tradition anyway. Jessie’s sulking across from him, so she’s oblivious to the _thing_ behind her that accompanies the change in atmosphere. A small, pale figure, almost translucent and flickering against the dark hills. Vulpes’ eyes widen before he can think to keep his face stoic and it seems she’s just as surprised to see him too as she lets out a low, drawn-out wheeze.

Jessie notices his shocked stare, aimed over her shoulder, and starts to turn. It barely registers what-- _who_ \-- she’s seeing before the apparition vanishes. “Jules?”

The crackling’s gone again. All that’s left is the sound of the fire snapping and the slightest breeze starting to blow across the sand.

Finally, Vulpes speaks up, more quietly than usual. “You’ll have to deal with that, Jessie.”


	8. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas still can't shake his bad dreams.

Days later and that dream won't leave him alone. The one about the woman in the desert, on that plane he doesn’t belong on. He hasn’t dreamed about her again, but it lingers in his waking thoughts, and the feeling he’d had-- the feeling of walking a razor’s edge, always on the verge of falling off, or, or being sliced open-- won’t disappear.

Claudia’s noticed, of course. Offered to exorcise the house, cleanse it of any unwanted spirits, put up new wards around their property but he’s declined every time. Says it’s not spirits, he don’t think, it’s not demons or angels or anything of that nature. It’s a different kind of energy, transcending through planes to brush against his.

Weeks later and he has the dream again-- back in the empty desert with void and stars above him and the woman a few yards off. If she knows he's here she doesn't acknowledge him. Her features are no clearer than before, but he can tell she’s upset. How could she not be? Here all alone, bleeding constantly with nothing to do but walk in the hopes she can find a way out.

Silas approaches cautiously, her face briefly flashing to the one he recognizes from his youth before blurring again with the rest of her, and kneels on the other side of the sigils she’s drawn in the sand. They look like...a summoning ritual? What is she trying to summon? If  _ Silas _ , with his  _ godblood _ is wrong on this plane, if he’s breaking the rules by being here in a  _ dream _ , then what  _ does _ belong here? What could she possibly bring in without consequence?

She tilts her head and examines her work, hand hesitating over one of the symbols before erasing it and replacing it with another, then following suit with a few more. Silas watches-- she's turned the summoning circle into a hodgepodge with elements of transportation and astral projection. She's trying to escape.

Hesitating again, the woman snaps her fingers to summon a flame and lights the outermost ring. Silas pushes himself backwards, away from the heat and the fire, though it couldn't burn him here, as she gingerly places one foot, then the other inside the circle. The flames burst upwards, obscuring her for a moment but she's still there, frozen in place.

Silas stands and paces a lap around her, hoping she'll clear in his vision so he can find out just  _ who _ she is, maybe start working out why he’s dreaming of her. She's clearly a witch or sorceress of some kind, or maybe a warlock who made a deal for her magic and decided she didn’t want to pay the price. There’s something  _ else _ about her, though, he wouldn’t be so haunted by a normal spellcaster. He reaches out to touch her shoulder-- and the flames immediately die and she stumbles back, gasping.

“Is-- is someone there?” She turns to face him, her voice small and desperate, with tinges of hope despite herself. “Anyone? ...Please?”

Silas clears his throat, nodding. “Yeah, yeah, I’m here-- I’m Silas, I--” He stops. Once again, she doesn’t seem to be able to hear him, as her shoulders sink and she erases the ring on the ground with her foot.

“I don’t know what I  _ expected _ ,” she mutters. “Why would anything change  _ now _ ?”

Silas wakes, less jarring than the last time but the wrongness still lingers, now with a heavy, unshakable sadness on top. Something has to be done about this, he decides. Something’s drawing him to this woman; he needs to find out  _ what _ if for no other reason than so he can feel  _ normal _ again without her and that plane haunting him and keeping him constantly on edge. There’s a way to solve this, decipher the meaning behind this dream. He just has to find out how.


	9. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex makes a friend with the Good Doctor.

“...”

Lex waited quietly in the entryway to the doctor’s room. Across it she saw a blonde man with glasses, wearing a white toga and slumped into a lounge chair, massaging his temples. Behind him leaning against the wall stood a Legionary guard, goggles and bandana covering his face, silent. A few more seconds passed with no recognition.

“Excuse me.”

“What? Oh, come in.” the man said, glancing up at Lex and seeing her holding a stack of books.

Lex obeyed, swiftly entering the room and leaving the books on a coffee table near the man. He barely twitched at her presence, going on rubbing his fingers on his forehead, pushing his glasses up above his eyes. Lex paused for a moment, watching him. He had a steady pulse, but smelt of tension--wisps of perspiration and adrenaline, breaths sighed out. It surprised Lex--this man, as her cousin had told her before sending her off on this errand, was Caesar’s personal doctor. She surmised from his comfortable surroundings that he was in favor with the dictator, and wondered what kind of professional ass-kissing he had done to get there. Another lackey, licking at that man’s boots, like all the rest.

“Are you just enjoying the view or is there something else Fox Boy wanted to give me?”

Her train of thought was broken by the man’s comment. He didn’t look up as he spoke, just continued melting into the lounge chair. Fox Boy? That was a new one. Lexington would have to remember that.

“...You mean  _ Vulpes Inculta? _ No. Other than parading around me as his favorite new toy, all I have for you are those books.” Lex said, dryly. 

The tone of her voice had caught the man’s attention. Finally he looked up, letting his glasses slip back down to his nose, getting a decent look at Lex. His eyes widened briefly before narrowing, brow furrowed.

“You’re a vampire?”

“Last I checked, unfortunately, yep.”

“Oh…” he paused, head tilting slightly, “What’s your name?”

Lex blinked, hesitating before answering--

“Uh, my name’s Jessica Lexington.”

“Huh, not very Latin.” he raised an eyebrow at her hesitation, “No one’s asked you that in a long time, have they?”

He was astute, that's for sure.

“No… no one has, my entire time I've been here. You're the first.”

Why was this man taking any interest in her? Lexington wondered what he wanted from her.

“Hmm. Not surprising. Everyone here just calls me ‘Doctor’, IF that. Otherwise it's just ‘Slave’. Don't want to confuse the Legionaries, though. I'm not sure they can handle remembering more than five names at a time.”

The guard behind him stayed silent, the man nonchalant somehow at insulting Legionaries even when one was within striking distance. Maybe he was more important than she had bargained.

“Well… then… what's your name?” she asked back.

He laughed a single laugh, a small, empty smile briefly on his face.

“Now  _ you're  _ the first person to ask me that, and I've been here longer than you, I'd figure. My name is Arcade Israel Gannon, but just call me Arcade, Mr. Gannon was my father. So what landed you here in this gilded cage?”

If it wasn't for his middle name she would've thought him Mormon. But what are the chances of finding another of her tribe here… but as long as he was asking, Lex figured she could be honest with him…

“I uh, well, uh. I used to be a Resistance fighter, but I was um.  _ Betrayed _ by Vulpes Inculta. I wouldn't break in his interrogation, so he enthralled me instead to get what he wanted.”

That was at least the main gist of things…

“Wow, that's uh, that's pretty bad. Hey uh, take a seat, you know, if you want. Sounds like you're not too far off from me.” he said, gesturing to a second chair near his around the coffee table. 

Lex threw a look at his guard.

“You sure?”

Arcade sighed.

“Yeah. I know  _ three's a crowd _ but there's not much we can do about that.”

“Alright, then…”

Lex approached the chair and sat down cautiously. Not a peep from the guard still. Guess two slaves weren't worth any comments from him.

“Yeah, yeah… I could use a sympathetic ear right now. Looks like you could too. Regale me your woes, and I'll tell you mine, and we can both feel really sorry for ourselves. How about that?”

Underneath Arcade’s sarcasm Lex could hear something a little softer, a little more delicate… nothing escaped her hearing these days, not even the faintest warble or smallest sigh. She let out a breath, letting it hang while she gathered herself. She hadn't really…  _ talked _ about… well, any of this, to anyone. There  _ wasn't  _ anyone to talk to until now. As much as Lex had gone over her mistakes, her pain, her regret, had tried to trace where everything had gone wrong, had endless conversations with herself… all she could sputter out were a few soft, choked noises.

Arcade’s face dropped a little.

“That bad, huh? Just rip off the bandaid and tell me the worst part of the personal customized Hell you're in.”

“...I… um…” 

Through a choked voice Lex tried to find the right words. There was  _ so much… _

“...Uh… Vulpes Inculta is my long-lost cousin Arthur Young, and, and the only family I have left, and… now I'm his undead thrall.”

Arcade raised his eyebrows and blinked a few times.

“Yyyyikes. I mean uh, wow, that's really pretty terrible, like as bad as terrible things can get. If it uh, makes you feel any better, I was betrayed too… I used to be with the Followers of the Apocalypse, and I saved a woman's life, and later she tricked me into following her so she could sell me to Caesar to save his life from a cursed brain tumor. The worst part is, I  _ let  _ her, I let her just walk me up to Caesar. I should have never trusted her, but I figured with our pasts, she wouldn't hurt me. Boy, boy… was I wrong. I'm really sorry you had to end up here too...”

So that explained him… he was right, they had more in common than she had thought, plenty of misery to spare between them…

She shook a little, speaking softly.

“...Thank you…”

Lex took in a deep breath, trying to cease her shuddering, wrenching her eyes shut as a few tears trickled down her face.

“Heh heh heh…”

She wiped her face as she and Arcade looked up at the Legionary guard, who was chuckling to himself.

“Hey!” Arcade snapped at him, “Keep the peanut gallery to a minimum! Ugh.”

The guard quieted but Lex could hear his lips brushing against his bandana in a smile, a grimace forming on her own as she started to shake from something else.

“Hey, Jess, I'm sorry again about the  _ company _ . I wish I could do something, but I can't…”

“No…” Lex started, clenching her fists, “but  _ I can _ .”

She stood up, glaring at the guard as he cocked his head and crossed his arms.

“Quiet down,  _ thrall _ . Everyone knows you've been ordered not to harm us, and our goggles protect us from your  _ profligate _ charms.”

“That's  _ half _ right,” Lex said, eyes locked directly on the Legionary’s covered face.

“Is that so? Well you… should…” he trailed off as Lex's glare continued, her seething building.

It was true, for  _ most  _ vampires, goggles could break eye contact and stop a charm… but she had noticed Legionaries hesitate as she stared them down in the past, and had tried where she could to see just how far her influence could reach, trying to persuade them into simple gestures with success, adjusting their armor, eliciting a cough, getting them to sit down… 

Now though, she had no need for subtlety. 

Lex stopped breathing, putting her entire force of will towards the Legionary. She could almost see the edges of his world receding, her gaze narrowing in on him as he froze in place, transfixed. The air in the room left, the light dimmed, only a spotlight on him and Lex's piercing eyes taking up his entire field of vision. Any thought, any will of his own, Lex directed her seething towards, welling up from within her, an unstoppable, molten tide, taking a sledgehammer to his mind and completely crushing any resistance with merely a few words--

“You. You will face the wall, and hear  _ nothing  _ until Arcade gives you permission to. When he does, you will remember  _ none of this _ . I  _ never _ gave you orders. Do you  _ understand? _ ”

The Legionary nodded slowly, making an affirmative grunt and turning to face the wall. Once in place, Lex breathed again, air rushing into her as she let her focus fall and sank back into her chair, taking a few more deep breaths to steady herself.

“Whoa, whoa! You just did that!! How??” Arcade exclaimed, looking to the Legionary and back again to her.

“It's just a matter of wanting it  _ enough _ … none of my cousin's sharp-toothed lackeys understand what it's like to  _ really  _ want something…”

_ None _ of them did. Not even her  _ cousin _ . But she supposed none of them understood  _ hate _ like she did.

“Well, gosh. I believe you. How long is he--” Arcade motioned to the Legionary, “--going to be studying that wall?”

“As long as you want.”

“...Really?”

“I really mean it.”

“That's… wow…”

It was now Arcade’s turn to shake, tears gathering in his eyes.

“Arcade…?”

“Heh… oh… don't worry about me…” he said, voice trembling, wiping away a few tears from his face.

“I just… it's been  _ months  _ since I haven't had one of those off-brand Romans breathing down my neck… this is…  _ thank you _ .”

Lex smiled at him, weakly and brief, but smiled nonetheless.

“Well… my pleasure. And thank you too. I'm glad to be able to do somethin’  _ nice  _ for someone again… and uh, you could probably use some privacy right now, I bet, but uh, I'll try and stop by again sometime and then we can really get some mutual self-pitying done, yeah?”

“Y-yep, thank you Jess.  _ Jessica Lexington _ .” Arcade said, sniffling a little.

“See you later,  _ Arcade Israel Gannon _ .”


	10. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules discovers in more detail how she's dead but not GONE.

The sigils are burning on the ground; she only has a limited amount of time to try this. It’s not strictly teleportation, since it’s debatable whether that would even accomplish anything when she’s been walking for god knows how long without any change in scenery, and it’s not strictly astral projection since she doesn’t have the necessary components and for all she knows she might already  _ be _ on the astral plane, but she’s combined a number of sigils from each in hopes it’ll accomplish  _ something _ .

Jules steps into the ring, holding her breath. If this works, she can use it again to move between planes and, maybe, find a way to resurrect herself. If it fails...well, not existing at all would be preferable to whatever she’s doing now.

Her vision blurs, then clears to show her new surroundings-- back in the Lucky 38, the deep crimson decor gives it away-- she blinks, she’s in the middle of a dozen frumentarii-- blinks again, rubs her eyes, leaving a bloody smear on her face, the frumentarii are as surprised to see her as she is to be there-- blinks one more time, turns around, comes face-to-face with Vulpes Inculta himself. She hasn’t seen him this horrified since they went through the gate to see the nuclear waste formerly known as the Long 15, and she can’t help a little smirk.

“Cato!” Vulpes barks, rapidly composing himself. “I thought I told you to salt the entrances!”

“I did, sir! Every one!”

“ _ Obviously _ you didn’t, or else there wouldn’t be a  _ ghost _ in front of me right now!” Their continued bickering nearly drowns out another voice, one that sends a chill down her spine.

“Jules?” She turns again-- Lex is staring at her from the other side of the room, pushing herself up from her chair and making her way through the frumentarii towards her. “How-- what are you  _ doing  _ here?”

Jules shakes her head, face grave, and steps backwards, away from her, hand instinctively flying to cover the still-bleeding gash in her neck. “Stay away from me.”

“Jules, I’m sorry, I--”

“Stay  _ away _ from me!” Tears choke her words despite her attempts at composure. Lex-- how could she  _ do _ this?! Is she with the  _ frumentarii _ now?! Is she-- is she just going to exorcise her if she gets close enough? Can vampires kill the dead too?  _ Permanently? _ What the hell is going on?! How could Lex  _ do _ this?!

Jules backs through another frumentarius with a nauseating feeling she’s not sure comes from phasing through an undead being more than facing her murderer. Lex keeps protesting, trying to apologize, but it’s all muddy in Jules’ ears, words indistinguishable from each other; if she still had a pulse it would be  _ racing _ .

Something hits her foot and she yanks it back, whipping around to find the source--  _ Vulpes _ , his fingertips glowing with remnants of the spell he’d just cast at her. Trying to  _ banish _ her, no doubt. The despair and fury she’s been trying to contain consumes her, engulfing her entire being; her scream is pure anguish as she just...lets herself go.  _ Bursts _ , howling and tearing around the casino, crushing furniture, slamming legionaries against the walls with so much as a glance, shattering glass and shredding banners and carpet and papers; she’s no longer herself but a creature of sheer, untameable force. 

Unlike last time she doesn’t immediately return to the desert plane, either her spell or her rage anchoring her in the mortal world a while longer, and when she reassembles herself, panting without truly drawing breath, she sees the frumentarii scattered on the ground around her, clutching their ears in pain, a few-- Lex included, she notes with no small measure of glee-- with blood trickling from their noses. Even Vulpes is shaken, another point she notes pleasantly. She starts to approach him to gloat, but before she reaches him something yanks her backwards.

She pauses. Tries again, but can't move any further, and with another violent pull she finds herself back in the desert, the flames of her sigils no more than smoldering embers.

Another presence. Jules can  _ feel _ it. “Is-- is someone there?” Slowly, she shuffles around to face it. “Anyone? ...Please?”

Nothing. She sighs and starts to wipe away the sigils. “I don’t know what I  _ expected _ . Why would anything change  _ now _ ?”

But wait. Something  _ had _ changed. She'd managed to...to project herself back into the living world, talk to people-- well,  _ one _ person-- there. They'd  _ seen _ her, heard her... she'd had a visible, tangible impact on that plane. That was more than she'd done in the entire rest of the time she'd spent dead.

And if she could do it once, she can certainly do it again.


	11. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes gets backsassed because he sucks.

What the  _ hell _ was that?

Vulpes pushes himself off the ground, swiping blood from his nose. His men are lying in various stages of disarray around him, all bleeding from noses and ears, a few crying despite themselves. His cousin’s among them, sitting stunned with a nosebleed herself and a hollow look in her eyes. 

“If  _ any _ of you,” he spits, “want to avoid finding yourselves lashed to a stake at sunrise, you will tear this tower  _ apart _ and find whatever is keeping that-- that  _ thing _ here and  _ destroy _ it. I want every  _ possible _ entryway salted, every cell scrubbed until your fingers are  _ bone _ , every damned  _ inch _ of this wretched casino picked over with a fine-toothed comb so that there is  _ nothing _ it can even  _ hope _ to tether itself to.”

The frumentarii shakily pick themselves up, still in a daze.

“Do. I. Make. Myself.  _ Clear _ .”

They nod, but Cato's the only one to speak. “Yes, Vulpes. We'll take care of it immediately.”

“You'd better.” Vulpes storms through them to his cousin and drags her off the ground, out of the Lucky 38 into the night outside. “We're dealing with this  _ ourselves _ as well.”

It isn't until they're well out of the city that he notices how far behind she's trailing-- that her shoulders are shaking, silent even to his ear.

“Are you  _ crying _ , Jessie?” He scoffs. Tragically sentimental, even in her un-death. It's what had gotten her here in the first place, her unwavering devotion to her family, what remained of it. If she'd had any common sense she would've staked him at Ivanpah-- it's what  _ he _ would've done.

She's stopped completely now as he watches her, head tilted curiously. “Don't  _ mourn _ her, Jessie, she isn't worth the effort. She was _ never _ worth the effort but especially not now that she's dead. If that was her at all she's a vengeful spirit now-- she wouldn't even want your sympathy.”

Vulpes steps closer, closer-- and Jessie looks up at him, not a tear in sight but instead a wide, satisfied smirk. She's  _ laughing _ at him-- right to his face!

“You just can't get rid of her, can you? You burn her at the stake-- I bring her back. Make me kill her myself-- she comes back to haunt you.” She chuckles. “You have to start thinking this stuff through, Artie.”

“ _ Don't  _ call me that.” He drags her the last bit uphill, back to the pit where they'd burned the courier's body. “Take the bones-- if she's haunting anyone, it's  _ you _ , the one who  _ murdered _ her. Which is why  _ you're  _ going to banish her.”

“Don't know that I can,  _ Artie _ .” Jessie kneels and starts casually scooping up the top layer of bones. “A powerful banshee like that, seems like--”

“You're not an  _ idiot _ , stop acting like one. We're going to Nipton to get that thing as far away from Caesar as possible-- it likely still has ties there we'll need to destroy to keep it from manifesting again.”

“Do  _ you _ even know how to banish a banshee?”

“...Of course I do.” His hesitance betrays him. He’s done it before in towns he's razed, but not once has one been as strong as this. It got past the salt, all the wards around the Lucky 38...

Jessie notices, egging him on. “Then why don't  _ you _ \--”

“ _ Shut up! _ I don't want another  _ word _ from you until you're performing that ritual to get rid of this nuisance once and for all.”

She falls silent but still has that smirk playing across her face. As they head south she trails just behind him again, carrying the bones, and it isn't long before he notices the faint sound of her cheerful whistling.


	12. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex feels bad that she MURDERED her pal.

It’s Jules. Throwing books, screaming through the halls, twisting through desert sands and making footsteps that echo throughout the Vegas strip. It’s her.  _ It’s her _ . Staring, crying, tearing, ripping, bleeding. Cursing Lexington, fire and ice from her lips. Lex is alone, and Jules is there, suddenly isn’t there but  _ always _ is there. And the screaming, the smell of her  _ blood _ , the warmth of her fading pulse in Lex’s hands, it  _ never goes away _ …

_ “You’ll have to deal with that, Jessie.” _

Lex’s eyes snapped open as she sucked in a breath of air full of solid, honest, painful smells. Talc and salt and sand. Dry, scraggly, earthy brush. Hot wind blowing distant swirls of even hotter asphalt. And… that ashen, crisp, charred menthol smell, unique to her cousin. They slept near each other now, in thick red tents that choked out the desert sun’s direct, excruciating rays. Arthur was silent, she could hear over in his tent, no breath or movement, still firmly asleep.  _ As always _ . He always slept consistently, with ease and peace that Lex would’ve envied if she didn’t  _ hate _ it so much.

The dreams were always like this now, a thousand times more vivid and tangled with her new acute senses. Flashes of sensation trickled in and out of her memory, crawling between the onslaught of reality, never ceasing, even in dark and quiet rooms, because there was no longer any such thing as  _ dark _ and  _ quiet _ . And out in the Mojave daytime? An unending mirage of washed out sunlight, flooding the shade with uncomfortable brightness, the desert wind endlessly kicking around new noises, the sounds of critters always skittering somewhere near or distant (they tended to keep away from her and Arthur, she noticed, now that they were both  _ dead _ …). And Jules… almost always, there was Jules. Bleeding. In dreams and in the mortal plane, spirit relentless in her torment.

Lex shut her eyes again, the tent’s shade providing no solace as its every corner still showed clear and vivid to her new vampire eyes. Silently, she wept, tears dripping down her cheeks and onto the musty cotton of her bedroll. 

_ Jules _ …

_ I’m so sorry, Jules. _


	13. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules torments Lex and Vulpes some more, this time In The Desert (tm).

This newfound ability to hop between her wasteland and the mortal plane is much more entertaining than Jules would like to admit. Shortly after she'd been pulled back by  _ whatever _ had grabbed her, she'd gathered herself and started in on another circle, same sigils as before. When she lit it she found herself in the Lucky 38 again, in front of a praetorian guard so shocked to see her ethereal form he couldn't even raise an alarm. She waved and winked at him before taking off to tear through the casino again, ripping down banners, smashing furniture and mirrors, leaving a path of destruction and terrified legionaries and an unearthly howl in her wake.

She did not venture down to the cells-- no need to see her corpse again or the stain where it had been-- or into the penthouse. Appearing recognizable before Caesar would be asking for trouble. Vulpes is already trying to banish her; she doesn't need more people on that task as well.

Haunting the Lucky 38 is satisfying, as Jules gets to see the increasing frustration on Caesar's face as her poltergeist self  _ refuses _ to leave him alone, but she wants  _ more _ . A few tweaked sigils on her next circle land her-- nowhere. In the middle of the Mojave, blinking against the bright midday sun. She lets herself drift along, taking in the familiar sight. Just as empty as her own wasteland, but this one's  _ alive _ . Wind stirs up swirls of dust, cazadores buzz around their nests in the hills, merchants walk the road with their pack brahmin, just themselves and a guard, oblivious to the only other presence nearby.

A spot of deep red catches Jules’ eye, a bloodstain on the desert’s blank canvas. Tents--  _ Legion _ tents. Anger already simmering in her chest, she approaches, stopping in the narrow space between the two. She runs a hand over the heavy fabric-- and digs her nails into it, ripping into it with a quick, powerful swipe. Same on the other one-- long gashes that could be mistaken for an animal’s work, suddenly and violently torn to let sunlight stream in on--

_ Vulpes.  _ Vulpes is sleeping-- or whatever passes for sleeping for vampires-- in this tent. Which means the other one must have--

Lex suddenly stumbles out into the afternoon with a cry, her coat hastily thrown over her head to keep her face from burning further. At the same time Vulpes bolts awake too and rolls away from the new holes in his tent, frantically using his bedroll to cover his own singed skin.

“Jessie! Are you alright?”

“Uh-huh!” She's curled in on herself, kneeling on the sand outside, any exposed skin hidden by her posture and the coat now protecting her head. Jules  _ almost _ laughs. Almost.

“Do you know what the  _ hell _ happened?”

“Uh-uh!”

“ _ Damn _ it.” Vulpes gingerly reaches towards the tears, yanking his hand back as his fingers brush against sunlight. “No...I know what it was. That  _ banshee.  _ It's haunting you, I told you.”

Lex lifts her coat just enough to be able to see, turns her head to look at him.

“Go back inside but stay away from the tears. It's the best we can do for now. We should be able to reach Nipton before sunrise and  _ solve _ this problem.”

Nipton? Why are they going to Nipton? Jules died in Vegas, her corpse is in Vegas, she…

Something else of hers must be tethering her to the mortal plane, something in Nipton. Maybe Vulpes had figured out what it was so was going there to destroy it  _ and her _ . She can't let that happen, not now, not  _ now, not EVER! _

Another swipe at the tent rends it nearly to shreds; Vulpes skitters away from the light with a hiss and fumbles for his cowl and goggles. Through the gaping hole he spots Jules, barely visible in the sunlight but visible enough, and glares up at her.

“You have a few hours  _ at best _ before we're through with you. Is trying to  _ murder _ your  _ friend _ in the most gruesome way possible really how you want to spend the last of your existence?”

Jules snaps and shoots off with another scream, leaving him shaken as she pierces through his chest.


	14. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes orders Lex to begin exorcising Jules in Nipton.

Even the crows have left town, the only thing remaining in Nipton's streets a still, crushing silence between the crosses bearing clean-picked bones. Vulpes can still smell the burnt bodies and gasoline as if he'd just lit the match not a minute before. Nipton remains one of his favorite triumphs, largely because of his pure genius in creating and executing the plan.

Among the lingering scents of fire and death he searches for another; it'd be faint but his nose is keen, even for a vampire. Ah-- there it is: the sweet, smoky smell of godblood.

Vulpes follows the faded trail, motioning for Jessie to go with him, and stops outside a small dingy-white house with boarded-up windows. This is it. He pries the door open and gestures his cousin inside.

Someone else had moved in since the courier left. One of his lucky losers, most likely, their scent blanketing hers. But godblood is hard to hide, even years later, and despite its age it practically radiates from this house.

“Summon her here, Jessie. If we banish her from her home it'll likely exorcise whatever she's holding onto as well.” He mills around, taking it all in: a small kitchen off the main entryway and living room, with dirty tile countertops and faded curtains framing a window above the sink; dirty and torn carpet leading to two closed doors he guesses are bedrooms; a little bathroom with a shattered mirror and empty jet inhalers on the floor. Not spacious, but at one point it was comfortable, he supposes. 

Jessie nudges old books aside with her foot to clear a space for the ritual. “I can talk now?”

“It seems you've answered your own question.” He hands her a pouch of salt and begins arranging candles around the room to light. “The sooner you get it done the better.”

“For who?”

“Don’t ask foolish questions. For all of us. Specifically  _ you _ . I don't tolerate failure in my  _ agents _ well, as I'm sure Alerio and Gabban were made well aware when we dealt with them.”

She pauses momentarily before drawing the final sigil, but finishes it, slowly. “And if this doesn't work?”

“Then you'll have to do it again. And again. And  _ again _ , until the thing is  _ gone _ . Is that clear?”

“Clear as day.” Jessie pours the salt in a ring around the sigils and kneels before it, closing her eyes as she begins to chant in Latin.


	15. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules gets pissed that Lex is trying to banish her.

A hand tugs Jules backwards. No one's there when she turns around, so she just keeps walking, only to have it pull at her again, more insistent this time. 

“What the fuck?” She digs her heels into the sand and resists with all her might, but the force overwhelms her, yanking her fast enough that the desert blurs before her as she's hauled backwards to unknown destinations. Is she being resurrected? Did a god spot her languishing in limbo and decide to finally deliver her to the afterlife? Whatever it is, at least it's something.

Jules rubs her eyes and yawns to pop her ears as her new surroundings come into focus. No-- not new surroundings after all. It's her house, the house she grew up in-- what-- why is she back in Nipton?! Is this Hell?! Is she in Hell?! Oh GOD even the wasteland is better than this, she knows she deserves Hell but god if she'd know it'd look like Nipton she would have LISTENED when the Burned Man told her killing good people would damage her soul, SO MUCH would have been DIFFERENT if she'd known THIS is what waited for her, she--

“Jules?”

She looks down and sucks in a deep breath. Lex is kneeling in front of her, palms open on her thighs, candlelight masking her normal, dead appearance. Sigils-- and salt-- surround Jules, keeping her in place. A summoning circle.

“You called me here?” Jules snorts. “You called me here. Why, so you could kill me again? Wanted to try some ghost blood?”

“I’m sorry, Jules, I--”

“You're sorry?! You ripped my fucking throat open!” She yanks her bloody hand away from her wound and shakes it at Lex. “You did this to me! I haven't stopped bleeding since I died-- but I'm fucking dead so the gaping hole in my neck is the least of my problems right now!”

“I didn't want--”

“You abso-fucking-lutely wanted to, Lex, I saw that look in your eyes before you mauled me. You were like a-- like an animal! I trusted you! I thought you were my friend! But you just killed me because your cousin told you to?!”

“That's not-- Jules, that's not what happened, it--”

“I don't give a single fuck however you try to justify this, I'm dead. And you know what? There's no paradise waiting on the other side, there's no reunion with long-lost family, no gods weighing your heart or-- or ferrymen taking you across a river for coins or angels or valkyries or whatever lifting you to your eternal reward, there is nothing. Nothing but empty wasteland, forever, in every direction, and you, all alone, and it's a nightmare, Lex, it's worse than a nightmare. The gods don't even know you're there, or if they do they ignore you, because you're dead. I'm. Dead. Because of you.” 

Lex can't look her in the eye anymore, shakily gathering odds and ends she'd set out as she started to recite something quietly and haltingly.

“Nice touch summoning me in Nipton, by the way,” Jules continues, ignoring whatever’s being said. The fury’s building in her chest again-- how dare Lex call her here? Here, of all places! “Why would you even think that's okay? Hell, why'd you think summoning me was okay?! Do you just do that to everyone you kill? Your victims usually wanna talk to you?”

Lex's voice rises in volume but with no less anguish. “Te, Dómine, sancte Pater, omnípotens aetérne Deus, supplices deprecámur pro anima fámuli tui--”

Jules frowns. “If you're not resurrecting me, I don't want anything else to do with you. Let me go.” 

“--quem de hoc sǽculo ad te venire iussísti; ut ei dignéris dare locum refrigérii, lucis et pacis.”

Something else tugs at her. A claw, embedded deep in the small of her back, hooked around her spine. “Lex, what are you doing?”

“Líceat ei portas mortis--” Lex chokes on her words, takes a breath to compose herself and continues. “--mortis, sine offensióne transíre et in mansiónibus sanctórum et in luce sancta permáneat.”

The claw tugs Jules again, deeper, into her gut. Her hands clutch her stomach and she looks down at Lex, who's still avoiding her gaze, hands shaking more with each word as she lights a sprig of rosemary with the closest candle. “Are you-- are you trying to banish me?!”

“Requiem...requiem æternam dona ei--”

No! No, she can't do this to her! Lex can't kill her again! Jules steels herself against the strengthening claw and tries to knock her way out of the salt circle-- no luck. She tries again, slamming her side against the invisible barrier-- nothing, nothing but a sharp tug and twist of her spine. Her shriek of pain echoes through the house, shattering what was left of the house’s glass and Lex's concentration.

“I'm sorry, Jules, God, I'm so sorry! I didn't want to kill you, I swear I didn't!”

“Then why?!”

“I didn't have a choice!”

“Why?!”

“Arthur, he-- he commanded me, I tried to resist it but I couldn't, he's--”

“WHY?!”

Jules doubles over in agony, the claw raking up and down her spinal cord, twisting and plucking her nerves until it's almost impossible for her to stand. Her eyes flick up and she catches a glimpse of Vulpes, lurking in the kitchen doorway watching Lex's ritual, a bemused smile on his lips. That sick sonofabitch, he's enjoying this, just like he enjoyed watching her burn!

Lex sobs, the rosemary smoldering in her hand. “I tried, Jules, please, believe me...I'm so sorry, I didn't want any of this to happen, I wish I could change it, please…”

“Jessie.” His voice comes low and deceptively soft. “Finish the job.”

Lex's jaw clenches and she blinks back tears, steeling herself to complete her task. “...dona ei Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat ei. Requiescat in--”

Before she can finish the incantation, Jules bursts with a furious howl, scattering the salt ring in one swipe. She sinks her nails into Lex's throat and rips it open to leave her a gash identical to her own mortal wound; blood flies through the air and spatters across the walls, even onto Vulpes’ face as Lex crumbles with a gasp. Jules barely glances back before blowing past Vulpes and smashing through the plywood covering the kitchen window.

She finds herself back in the starry wasteland, Nipton nowhere in sight, catching her breath though it's entirely unnecessary. Her core still aches. Her neck’s still bleeding. Nothing's changed, has it, not really. Just become more obvious.


	16. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas and Claudia discuss his dreams and some Business they must attend to.

“Silas. What's wrong?” Claudia shuts his office door behind her, heels tap-tap-tapping gently as she glides over and perches herself on his desk, poised and elegant as the New Reno royalty she is. “You haven't been yourself lately.”

“It's nothin’, Claud.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it. “Haven't been sleepin’ well is all. Those dreams…”

“Still?” 

Silas nods. 

“ _ Tell _ me.”

He sighs and leans back in his chair. “There's this girl-- maybe a few years older than Evie. Tiny little thing. I can't get a real good look at her but...she looks like Eliza. I dunno how I know it, but she does.”

Claudia purses her lips. “Is it Eliza?”

“No, no, it ain't her, she's  _ different _ . But she  _ looks _ like her. And she's always in this desert, walkin’ but gettin’ nowhere. She's got this-- big ol’ gash on her neck.” Silas mimes tearing open his own throat. “Looks like somethin’ big bit her. Just bleedin’ all over the place, blood black as midnight.”

“She's dead. Or undead, maybe.”

“I don't think so-- not in these dreams at least. I think she can tell I'm there, she tried to talk to me a couple times but she can't never hear me.” He shifts uncomfortably, loosens his tie. “Wherever she is-- that desert-- it ain't a plane I ever been on. Leaves a bad taste in your mouth, like...bile, and metal, and cigarette smoke. You just feel  _ wrong _ the entire time you're there. And I can't shake it off, even when I'm awake.”

Claudia nods, processing what she's been told. “Well. Sounds like a haunting to me, so...we can start by cleansing the casino and putting up more sigils against spirits-- that'll probably draw more business in as well, people know their bets won't be changed by a mischievous ghost. We'll do the same at home. An exorcism too, just in case.”

“It ain't a demon, Claud, I don't know what it is but it ain't a demon.”

“ _ Just in case _ .” She twists her family's signet ring around on her finger. “I'll contact my sister, too, see if she knows anything.”

“The dead one?”

“She's the only one who still speaks to me.”

“Fair,” Silas chuckles. “But if this girl’s really a ghost what are the odds she’ll know about her? There's a lotta dead people, Claud.”

“And none of them as clever as Gloria. No one steps their ghostly little foot on the ethereal plane without her being made aware.”

“Ambitious in death as she was in life, eh?”

“I'd be disappointed if she wasn't.” Claudia flows off his desk and leans in to fix his tie. “We'll fix this, Silas. Don’t let it wear you down.” She finishes with a smoothing stroke on his shirt collar and a kiss on his cheek. “Now, I think we've kept the Wrights waiting long enough, haven't we? They've been here almost an hour.”

“ _ God.  _ They haven't left yet?”

“They insisted on seeing you. Said they’re  _ well _ aware of the Van Graff reputation and  _ knew _ you'd be more lenient with them.” She smirks, examining her immaculately manicured nails.

“Well they’ve got another think comin’, don't they?” Silas stands and swoops his suit jacket from the back of his chair, buttoning it and putting an arm around his wife as she leads him out of the office. “You're platinum, babe, you know that?”

“I do, my love.”

The door shuts behind them with a heavy  _ thud. _


	17. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes gets mad the banishment isn't working and takes some more desperate measures.

How?!  _ How _ had that  _ wretched _ woman broken the circle?! The dead are  _ dead _ , whether they come from mortal men or gods, there are  _ rules _ that must be  _ obeyed _ \--!  _ HOW?! _

Nothing in Vulpes’ reading has addressed this, not myths of ancient heroes or more practical pre-war guides to ghosts; not a single sentence was ever devoted to how to banish a vengeful  _ demigod's _ spirit. They always died valiantly in battle or peacefully in old age, not a trace of unfinished business to be found, none of them out for  _ revenge _ . At least not that have ever been recorded. Logic dictates that you could do it the same way as a normal ghost: summon it, trap it, recite the Latin, complete the ritual,  _ very straightforward steps _ . But  _ logic _ , as he should have remembered from the last six months before Hoover Dam, has no place in the Courier's life. Or afterlife either, it seems.

Vulpes grinds out the smoldering rosemary with the heel of his boot. Jessie's still lying on the living room floor, bleeding and gasping not for air but from shock. Shock that the ritual had failed, shock that her former friend would attack her so viciously-- he wagers it's a little of both. “Get up. You're fine.”

“She-- she--”

“I was  _ there _ , I  _ saw _ what it  _ did. _ ” He lifts his goggles and rubs his eyes with the heels of his palms. “You didn’t banish it fast enough. You let it  _ distract _ you and it got away.”

Jessie props herself up, poking at the rapidly closing gash in her throat and staring at the dark blood on her fingers. “She got out-- she broke the circle...ghosts can't  _ do _ that, Artie. Not ordinary ones...what  _ is _ she?”

He dismisses her concern with a handwave. “It's clearly a poltergeist; you saw the damage it did at the casino. Witches--” demigods-- “as strong as the Courier was, with her skill set--” her divine heritage-- “would be more likely to... _ avoid _ moving on to the afterlife; they often have unfinished business. Or a thirst for vengeance against the  _ friend _ who  _ murdered _ them.”

Vulpes rights the candles the Courier had toppled in her escape and sprinkles a circle on the ground from another pouch of salt. “Call it back, Jessie. You have to get rid of it. Now.”

“Arthur, don't be ridiculous, if she can get out once she can--”

“ _ Call it back. _ ”

Jessie sighs and repeats the ritual, her incantations embedded with venom. The Courier flickers back into existence in the new circle, more irritated than horrified at the realization of her surroundings this time.

“Really?” She rolls her eyes and scowls at them. “ _ Fuck _ you.”

Another shockwave rattles the house, extinguishing most of the candles as she vanishes.

“I tried t’tell ya, Artie,” Jessie says, still staring at the empty salt ring. “She ain't gonna be caught by some run-a’-th’-mill ghost trap. Poltergeists are...do y’even know how t’get rid a’ one?”

“ _ Stop  _ **_talking_ ** _ like that! _ ” Vulpes watches her stiffen and shudder and he's more than a little pleased at the pain her defiance is causing her. He picks up the largest candles and casually tips the flame to brush against the living room's decrepit couch, the peeling wallpaper, the litter scattered across the floor. If anything in this house was tethering that spirit to the mortal plane, it wouldn't be for much longer. “You'll just have to try again. And again. And  _ again _ , until this  _ nuisance _ is dealt with for good.”

He grabs her arm and drags her out of the rapidly-igniting house, pausing on the street outside to listen to the fire crackling behind boarded-up windows, watch its glow seep out from the cracks, white walls blackening and crumbling as dark smoke rises high into the night sky.


	18. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex asks the Good Doctor for something he can't give her.

“Jess! There you are. I was starting to wonder if  _ Vulpes Insulsus  _ had sent you away on some awful errand tonight.”

Lex walked slowly into the doctor’s room, staring down his Legionary guard and submitting him to her crushing will with a few mouthed commands until he turned towards the wall, as usual with her and Arcade’s routine.  

“No, I’m… I’m here, Arcade. Just… late. I’m sorry.” she said, voice softer than usual.

It had taken her serious consideration, serious time alone in thought before she had finally come to an inevitable conclusion. Each step into the room was harder than the last, culminating in her sinking into her usual chair across from Arcade, his concern at her malaise clearly etched on his face. 

“It’s alright, Jess. Did something happen?” 

“No, nothing… worse than always.”

It wasn’t true, but when faced with that look of his, she found herself blurting out this platitude. What could she even say? How could she start? Arcade just looked on, curious yet somber--

“Well… that’s, well I was going to say that’s good to hear but I think ‘good’ is a misleading term, so, I’m glad it’s not worse than it already is.”

Lex nodded quietly. 

A beat. And then a few more.

“Sooo…” Arcade started, breaking the silence, “I got those snack cakes you sent me earlier today, thanks. Whatever you do to those Legionaries with that charm stuff, it’s really something. After the big brute handed me the box he asked me where I got them and if he could  _ have one! _ Can you believe it?”

She nodded again, breathing out something between a sigh and laugh, returning then to her silence.

“I think watching the boorish confusion of my  _ keepers _ might be the best part about all the trinkets you send me. Really can see the gears  _ struggle _ to grind as books and snacks and other bric-a-brac keeps appearing in here.” 

He smiled at her, and Lex couldn’t help but offer a weak smile back. 

“Hey! There we go. It’s funny. Really! Well, we might have gotten to a late start, but better late than never, right? We never finished that chess game from last night. I left the board as-is on the table in the other room, and I swear I didn’t cheat and move any pieces. Shall we?”

Lex didn’t move from her chair, only averted her eyes from Arcade. The game didn’t matter anymore, nothing did, now that she had made up her mind. But still… just to finish this one  _ last _ thing…

“Okay.” 

Lex rose from her chair, following Arcade into the adjacent room, sitting at the table next to the hotel room’s kitchenette, where sure enough their chess board still stood, unmoved. She and Arcade sat down, both eyeing the board.

“It was my turn last, so you go first, Jess.”

A small, affirmative noise, and she went on examining the board. It was a close game, both of them having lost a significant amount of pieces. Arcade had lost more pawns than she did, but she had less of other pieces. Now she contemplated where to move her last knight, hand hovering over the piece for a few seconds before she moved it ahead, poising it to take one of Arcade’s castles.

“Sending in the gallant cavalry for a siege, I see! Hmm…” Arcade paused in thought, continuing after a time, “We’ll see how they do against my feudal peasants.”

He reached forward, moving a pawn ahead, diagonal behind his castle.

It’d be best to just end this quickly, Lexington thought to herself. She moved her knight and took Arcade’s castle, lining it up with the rest of the pieces she had captured, neatly in a row next to the board. 

“How bold are your peasants, Arcade?” she asked, a little coy but mostly dry.

“Ready-to-storm-the-Bastille levels of bold, Lexington.” he answered, taking her night with the pawn.

“I’m not sure that brings good tidings to yer king, Arcade.” Lex mused back. 

“Hm, you know, I’d like to say you’re right and that all feudal societies were doomed either way but I feel like our current situation might refute that.”

“I… understand the feeling.”

Lex surveyed the board once more. If she lost her queen, there’d be almost nothing stopping Arcade from a checkmate. All she had to do was move her last bishop and it’d be wide open…

She slid her bishop diagonally forward, feigning an ill-thought attempt to capture Arcade’s own queen, taking a pawn of his towards the edge of the board.

Arcade watched her move off the pawn, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, elbow on the table. His eyes darted from piece to piece on the board, then widened an amount imperceptible to anyone without vampiric vision, as Lex heard his heart beat just a bit faster than before. 

He looked up at her, hesitating before speaking--

“Jess… are you okay?”

Damn, she had been too transparent, hadn’t she… Lex just wanted to finish this last gesture…

“Can’t we just… finish the game…” she said, softer than before.

“Alright, then.” 

Arcade extended his arm and swiped all the pieces off the board, and then leaned a little closer towards Lex--

“Checkmate. Now really, what’s wrong? We’ve both seen each other cry like children, on several occasions, mind you, so what could possibly be worse than, say, having to sit through my tragic life sob-story while we both bawl?”

Lex covered her eyes with her hand, rubbing her temples to stop her hand from shaking. She just had to  _ say it _ , had to let him know, somehow,  _ why _ …

“I’m… Arcade, I… I can’t do  _ this _ anymore.”

“Well if you thought chess was that boring, you could have just told me. But seriously, do  _ what  _ anymore?”

“...Everything. I need… I need your  _ help _ .”

“With  _ what? _ ”

“...With--”

Lex stood up from her chair, grabbing its wooden frame and lifting it above her head before smashing it down to the floor with her inhuman strength, shattering it into jagged pieces of wood, scattered across the hard tile, the unmistakable sound of wood snapping filling the room. 

“JESUS  _ Lexington _ , what the  _ Hell!! _ ” Arcade shouted, standing up from his own chair, recoiling from the debris scattered on the floor.

“What are you--” he stopped mid-sentence as he saw Lex drop to her knees, her hand falling down to the wood scraps and grabbing a particularly long and sharp piece, splintered off one of the chair legs.

“Help… with  _ this _ .”

Lex held the piece of wood tight in her shaking grip, her whole body trembling as she looked up again at Arcade.

“Jess,  _ Jess _ , no, no--what are you--”

“ _ Please _ , Arcade, just do this  _ one _ thing for me, please… I’ve been--”

“ _ No!! _ ”

“--I’ve been  _ forbidden _ from hurting myself, but that doesn’t mean  _ you _ can’t hurt me.”

Arcade leapt down to the floor beside her, snatching the wood out of her hands and tossing it across the room--

“No,  _ no _ , Jess, no--” 

With his arms he frantically brushed away the rest of the wood from Lex, sending it towards the edges of the room with rapid, disjointed swipes. Lex couldn’t bring herself to move, tears starting down her face, and only watched as he batted away the last scraps near them. 

“Jess,  _ Jess _ \--”

He grabbed her, pulling her into a hug and holding her as tight as Lex figured a mortal could, pale in comparison to whatever forces she could exert. 

“You can’t, I can’t do that, Jess...” she heard Arcade whisper out beside her head.

The tears streamed freely down her face now as she shook in his arms.

“P-please…” she sputtered out between tears, “I don’t have  _ anything _ left anymore, I… you can say I  _ charmed _ you to do it, or, or, that it was  _ self-defense _ , that I  _ lost control _ , please…”

He just squeezed her tighter, whispering soft ‘no’s as he cried along with her, heart racing. Gently, she pushed him away enough until they were face-to-face.

“Arcade, please… endin’ me will take away my cousin’s most prized  _ plaything _ … an’ then maybe… when I’m  _ dead _ … I can finally explain to Jules what happened… please, let me have this…”

Arcade trembled, eyes wet and wide--

“ _ No! _ ”

“ _ Why _ , Arcade, why should--”

“BECAUSE--” he shouted, cutting her off, startled at his own loudness, then letting his posture go slack, air and volume taken out of him, “Because…”

He looked down at the floor, and then back at her, and spoke, voice warbling,

“You can’t leave me here  _ alone _ . Okay?” 

Lex blinked a few times, shedding tears, her watery vision coalescing again clearly, seeing Arcade’s pleading face.

A tense moment stretched out between them, until she broke the silence and whispered softly back to him.

“...Okay…”

“Good, great,” Arcade sniffed, “n-no need to make any drastic decisions r-right now, alright, Jess?”

She nodded, and he leaned back, patting her shoulder with a wobbly hand. 

“So... tell me, Jess… what happened?”

What happened…

_ What happened… _

_ “Gods, Jessie, are you  _ **_praying_ ** _?” _

_ She was kneeling quietly next to the man they had just drained--once an NCR soldier, captured, now  _ **_livestock_ ** _ for the frumentarii. She didn’t answer her cousin, instead staying silent and finishing her prayer for the poor man’s departed soul. He didn’t deserve to die like this, almost none of their  _ **_meals_ ** _ did, and the least she could do for them was pray for their deliverance… _

_“Come now, Jessie, you aren’t serious, are you? Really?_ ** _Prayer?_** _For some lowly_ ** _human_** _prisoner? You’re_ ** _above_** _that, now. We’re_ ** _immortal_** _, Jessie, powerful beyond mortal imagination. They are_ ** _nothing_** _to us anymore beyond a means to an end.”_

_ Lex finished her prayer, taking a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiping away the blood from her face, neatly folding it and returning it to her pocket while she spoke. _

_ “They still have souls,  _ **_Arthur_ ** _.”  _

_ “A meaningless unit when singular. They only have power in masses, and even then, only under  _ **_contract_ ** _. The Legion is proof enough of that. Besides, you’re wasting your effort. You really think  _ **_your God_ ** _ would listen to a prayer from  _ **_monsters_ ** _ like  _ **_us?_ ** _ ” _

_ Lex winced at “us”. Every reminder she belonged to that category stung, perpetually raw. But nonetheless, vampire or not, she still had God, and if there was anything she had that reminded her that she had a  _ **_soul_ ** _ and was  _ **_human_ ** _ once, it was the prayers she sent to Him, even if they made her unholy body ache. _

_ “Don’t forget that we have souls, too. You can pretend to be as  _ **_soulless_ ** _ as you want, but someday, Arthur, you will die, and your  _ **_truly_ ** _ immortal soul will face Judgement.” _

_ “Tch! Still on that, hmm? How many ways can you tell me I’m going to  _ **_Hell_ ** _ , Jessie? You think I fear death? Heaven, Hell,  _ **_death_ ** _ , it’s all just different places, things which can be manipulated to our  _ **_will_ ** _. That’s what we  _ **_are_ ** _ , isn’t it? Our very existence proves that the lines between life and death are more malleable than you would think. Now stop lingering like a fool and  _ **_get up._ ** _ ” _

_ His words sank their hooks into her and dragged her up by their chains to her feet, perhaps too fast, as she wobbled slightly, dizzy still from the numbing of the prayers. Holy energy was now her bane, and channeling it left her drained, but the pain prayers caused only motivated her more to send them. _

_ Her cousin looked at her, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms, a ghastly smirk starting across his lips. Lex narrowed her eyes at him, bracing for whatever quip he was preparing. _

_ “Well, well, well. Not feeling too chipper, are we? It’s those  _ **_prayers_ ** _ , isn’t it?” _

_ She kept glaring at him, no amount of exhaustion ever able to quell the underlying fury she  _ **_always_ ** _ had around him. _

_ “Jessie, please, you’re a creature of the night now, you shouldn’t waste your energy burning yourself with holy light.” _

_ Coldly, she answered him. _

_ “You shouldn’t be so fast to condemn me. Spiritual strength is far greater than physical strength ever will be.”  _

_ A sarcastic ‘hmph!’ and he cocked his head slightly to the side, still smirking at her. _

_ “Really. Pray then, show me how strong you are.” _

_ Lex stared into his empty blue eyes, almost snarling as she spoke-- _

_ “Heavenly Father,” just those two words stung and sent a buzz throughout her, “I thank you for your unending Grace and Love, and for the Justice and Compassion you bring to your Earth. I give you my  _ **_eternal_ ** _ devotion, and humbly pray for the strength to--” _

_ “Stop.” He cut her off, the words slicing into her sentence and her mind. _

_ She grimaced, fighting against the blade he had dug into her-- _

_ “--for, for the strength to, to continue on, in your image, and--” _

_ “I meant it. Stop praying.” _

_ Her face contorted, hands clenching into tight fists as her whole body tensed, screaming out against his commands. _

_ “--and--for--you--to--” _

_ “I said,  _ **_stop_ ** _.” _

_ She gasped, knees collapsing from out under her as she fell to the floor, shuddering and gasping, fighting desperately to turn those gasps back into words-- _

_ “--to--” she breathed out, “--deliver--us--” another gasp, “--from--” _

**_FROM EVIL._ **

_ Even thinking the rest of the prayer wracked her body with red hot bolts of agony, her cousin’s will consuming her and tearing her apart, deep inside her, its tendrils clinging around every thought, word, muscle, breath of hers--she screamed, emptying her lungs of air and falling to the ground, lying prone as she twitched and struggled to mouth the rest of the prayer, babbled whispers of nothing all that she could now summon. She unclenched and clenched her fists, her nails digging so hard in her hands that she felt the cool wetness of her own blood in her palms. She writhed on the floor, utterly incapable of anything else. _

_ Above her, she could hear a few short chuckles from her cousin. _

_ “See, Jessie, all that useless  _ **_sentimentality_ ** _ does for you is make you  _ **_weak._ ** _ I won’t tolerate it anymore.” _

_ “N-no…” she choked out, still shaking, desperate for breath. _

_ “ _ **_Yes._ ** _ All  _ **_your God_ ** _ does is make you  _ **_pathetic,_ ** _ more so than you already are. From here on out, you are  _ **_not_ ** _ to pray,  _ **_ever again._ ** _ Out loud or silently, it does not matter, you will  _ **_not_ ** _ beg the Lord or Jesus for mercy they will  _ **_never_ ** _ give. To you, now, God is  _ **_dead._ ** _ Do you  _ **_understand?_ ** _ ” _

_ Her grunts of pain turned into sobs as she cried into the floor. _

_ “...Y-yes…” _

_ She understood… _

All too well, she understood.

“So… that’s what pushed you over the edge.”

“...Yeah…”

Lex took another sip from the tea that Arcade had brewed for her. She couldn’t taste it, but the steam and heat and scent was calming nonetheless. She sat on his couch now, curled up in one corner while he sat opposite her in the other. 

“...I figured… that without my faith, I might as well commune myself to God now… rather make that sin than wait centuries to face Him in the afterlife with a neglected soul… and it would right piss off my cousin…”

She closed her eyes, breathing in the cup’s steam and letting it fill her senses.

“Geez, Jess, that’s really… I don’t know what to say. Your cousin’s a monster for taking that from you. I’m… sorry.”

Arcade shifted a little on the couch, taking a sip from his own tea.

“I’m sorry too… I should’ve known. Nothing is sacred to him… he’ll take  _ anything _ … and I thought I didn’t have anything left for him to take… I didn’t know… didn’t know that I could even be separated from my faith. I took it for  _ granted… _ ” she looked up from her tea at Arcade, “and I took  _ you _ for granted. I’m… sorry for doing that to you.”

“Aw Jess,” he started, toying a bit with his own cup, “it’s okay. I wish… I wish I could do  _ something _ . You’re always sending me things and talking with me, but here you are and I can’t do anything to…” he trailed off, thinking for a moment.

“Wait, that’s not true,” Arcade perked his eyes up, catching Lex’s, “I’ll… I’ll pray for you. Not just, you know, for your sake, but also in your  _ stead _ … it’s kind of like three birds, one stone--you get someone praying  _ for  _ you, you get someone praying  _ instead _ of you, and you get me, a heathen, to spend some quality time with God. What do you think?” he said, offering a hopeful smile.

It dissolved into a watery blur in Lex’s vision as tears came down her face once more. She put her cup of tea on the coffee table next to the couch so she could sob more freely, nodding towards Arcade and sniffling between tears as she clutched her knees to her chest. She heard the clink of his own cup being set down, and then felt his arms around her again. This time, she hugged back, sobbing onto his shoulder.

“...Th-thank you, Arcade…”

“Anytime, Jess. We’ll… we’ll get through this, I  _ promise. _ ”


	19. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules has dramatically bad timing thanks to her temper.

No sooner is Jules back in the wastes than that hand pulls her back to the Mojave again. Over and over and over; she can barely catch her metaphorical breath. Each time it's the same: Lex kneeling in front of a salt circle surrounded by lit candles, reciting the banishment ritual, Vulpes lurking over her shoulder. And each time Jules escapes in as much of a fury as the first, no matter how much salt or how many sigils she suspects are drawn in blood they use to try and contain her.

It's exhausting. Fighting the initial pull, breaking out of the trap, whisking herself back to the wasteland plane, each time she gets angrier in her exit it drains her more until after one that ends with Lex's ribs broken, Vulpes’ eardrums pierced and face scratched to shreds and every last thing the presidential suite of the Lucky 38 destroyed, Jules wakes up prone in the sand, a red fountain gushing from the gash in her neck, blood soaking the ground beneath her. She can't move, and doesn't want to, until it slows back to a steady trickle-- but doesn't stop. It'll never stop, and she's accepted this...almost.

The seventh time Lex summons her to try and get rid of her permanently, Jules is about to unleash another bout of wrath when she notices it-- a tiny, almost imperceptible clear space in the salt ring, right in front of Lex, positioned so her body's blocking it from Vulpes’ view.

“Líceat ei portas mortis, sine offensióne transíre et in mansiónibus sanctórum--”

It's just a sliver, but it's enough for Jules to make her escape quickly and quietly, though she can't resist a solid slap to Vulpes’ face as she leaves for the wasteland.

And then it happens again. Another summoning, another escape route left for her in the salt. And again. And again. And again. Lex keeps trying to banish her but with how many times she's left holes in the salt ring and fumbled sigils and rosemary and stumbled over the Latin words there's no way this is unintentional anymore.

If they're going to keep calling her, Jules reasons, she might as well try to find out  _ why _ .

She lingers after the next time Lex sets her free from the banishment ritual, hovering just close enough, careful to keep Vulpes’ back to her so she can hear what he says without being seen.

“I  _ thought _ you were an  _ expert _ in this,  _ Jessie _ ,” he spits, prowling around the suite. “Why is she not  _ gone _ yet?”

“I don't  _ know, Arthur _ .” Lex's words contain just as much poison as her cousin's. “Maybe it's  _ you _ . Maybe  _ you're  _ the one she has unfinished business with.”

“That ritual works  _ regardless _ of unfinished business; I've done it  _ dozens _ of times. It's  _ your _ fault, not mine.”

“Then maybe  _ you _ want to try it?”

He scoffs. “This is your mess. You clean it up.”

“How is it mine, Arthur?!”

“You killed her. You brought her back in the first place, and then you killed her. What a convenient little circle.”

“Killing her wasn't my  _ choice _ , you  _ made _ me--”

“And how easily I did so. Two words and you brutally slaughtered the closest friend you had in years. So much for that indomitable will of yours, unless...you were always more stubborn than I was. I'm sure if you'd wanted to resist you could have.”

Vulpes stops. Lex is silent.

Jules feels a shiver run down her spine. Whatever spell Vulpes had put on Lex, if anyone should've been able to resist it it was  _ her _ ...so why hadn't she? Why hadn't she  _ done _ something?

“You  _ wanted _ her dead, didn't you?”

Lex is still silent. 

Jules doesn't stick around to hear if that changes.


	20. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes continues to taunt Lex, and sends her off on a fool's errand.

“You killed her. You brought her back in the first place, and then you killed her.” Vulpes smirks, a quick chuckle escaping his lips. “What a convenient little circle.”

“Killing her wasn't my  _ choice _ , you  _ made _ me--”

“And how easily I did so. Two words and you brutally slaughtered the closest friend you had in years. So much for that indomitable will of yours, unless...you were always more stubborn than I was. I'm sure if you'd wanted to resist you could have.”

Jessie is silent, looking for all the world like she's meticulously going over every possible way she could kill him.

“You  _ wanted _ her dead, didn't you?”

There-- the electric crackling that had made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end is gone. The Courier isn't eavesdropping anymore and Jessie is none the wiser that she had stayed after escaping the salt.

“That's  _ wrong, _ ” Jessie finally growls, her eyes brimming with hatred, “you're  _ wrong _ and you know it, Arthur.  _ You _ made me this,  _ you  _ enthralled me,  _ you _ did this to me, but I will  _ never _ be the monster you are.”

He shrugs. Give it time, he thinks, she can’t hold out forever. Time to shift gears.

“You’ll deliver the day’s report on the frumentarii to Lord Caesar. Immediately, since you’ve nothing  _ better _ to do.”

“What is there to  _ report _ .”

Vulpes smiles. “That the training of the new recruits is going well, of course.”

“That’s it? Why don’t  _ you _ do it if it’s so important?”

“Because I said  _ you _ are. And  _ you’ll do it regardless _ . Won’t you?”

She winces but nods, still radiating resentment. “Yes, Arthur.”

“Good.” He waves her away with another condescending smirk. “Go on now. Run along, Jessie.”


	21. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a doozy. Lex has nothing to lose and is willing to do ANYTHING to spite her cousin... absolutely ANYTHING...

“Ave, Lord Caesar.”

Lexington entered the section of the Lucky 38’s penthouse that had been commandeered by Caesar as his quarters, finding the dictator at his desk, various documents scattered across it, ignored, as he leafed through a book in his hands. Of all the changes she had to  _ adjust _ to, the hardest perhaps was having to see  _ him _ . The miserable limitations of her newfound immortal strength did not miss her--there were a million new ways at her disposal with which she could have killed him, all no more difficult than snapping a  _ twig _ , but as long as she  _ belonged _ to her cousin, none of them would ever be plied. The thought gnawed at her every day, inescapable when Caesar was within  _ arm’s reach _ .  

Without looking up, he spoke,

“Tell me, thrall, what nerve do you have coming here  _ alone _ ?”

He turned another page, the sharpness of his voice unseen in his posture. Unlike the other vampires of the Legion, Lexington had no name, always addressed in that same way. The only exception was Arcade, and her cousin--Vulpes still insisted on calling her “Jessie”, and Lexington wondered if having no name at all was worse than having one almost exclusively spoken by  _ him _ . There was nothing she had that he didn’t take, except her own  _ hatred _ . It burned with every insult, including being forced to answer directly to Caesar alone.

“My Lord, I have been sent by Vulpes Inculta to deliver the day’s report on the frumentarii.”

Lex spoke slow, deliberate, factually--her cousin had commanded she rid herself of her accent, and ever since then, she found her words chosen much slower and precisely, a forced deference in every sentence. If that meant anything to Caesar it was yet to be seen, judging by his displeasure at her arrival.

“Really.”

Finally he looked up from his book at Lexington, his purple and gold-hemmed silk robes ruffling gently as he turned.

“Tell me, what’s so important to deny me an audience with the first of my frumentarii?”

The displeasure in his voice was evident, of course, as her cousin had probably planned--let her bear the brunt of Caesar’s anger at an invented slight. ‘Don’t shoot the messenger’ was generally disobeyed in Vegas, she had learned. 

“Vulpes Inculta is occupied with training his newly-turned frumentarii in the ways of their-- _ our _ kind, My Lord.”

Her self-correction stung but there was no use in denying the species she now belonged to. Another red-hot splinter buried into her, these small truths always digging in between the sizzling pokers of other, more brutal realities. 

“He’s babysitting the new  _ whelps? _ ”

With a ‘fwip’ Caesar closed his book, dropping it on his desk as he rose from his chair and stepped towards Lex. On cue, she knelt down on one knee--as was  _ custom  _ when approached by Caesar, as her cousin had explained to her with cold glee in his voice.

“Well, out with it then, thrall. What’s the report?”

She bowed her head, feigning respect to hide her growing scowl.

“The training of the new frumentarii is going well.”

“ _ And? _ ”

“That is all, My Lord.”

“ _ That is all, My Lord? _ ” Caesar parroted back, crossing his arms, “and he couldn’t tell me that  _ himself? _ That’s a mistake on  _ his _ part. There is  _ nothing _ too minor to for him to report--he’s MY Vulpes Inculta, and I  _ expect _ to see him.”

The irritation in Caesar’s voice grew as Lex braced herself for whatever was coming to her. She’d limp back bloodied to her cousin later, all as he had planned.

“ _ You. _ ”

Lex tensed--

“Yes, My Lord?”

A beat, as she waited for his response.

“As long as you’ve gone out of your way to speak with me, you might as well get the chance. Get up.”

She blinked, the sudden haughtiness in Caesar’s voice not the anger she had expected. Lex obeyed, rising to stand as Caesar sauntered over to his bed, sitting on its edge.

“Pull up a chair. Arcade tells me you’re quite the conversationalist, and his judgement has generally been sound. I’m a learned man, and I can appreciate a good conversation, something that’s unfortunately lost on most of the  _ ingrates _ around me. But it’s not their fault they’re uneducated--that’s exactly how I wanted it. They know only what they need to. There’ll come a time to change that when New Vegas is truly ready to become my Rome, but until then, I find entertainment where I can. Well? Go on! Take the chair from my desk.”

His command had broken through Lex’s stunned silence as she hurried over to fetch the chair, Caesar watching as she held it, while she paused to contemplate the appropriate distance and angle for her to set it down. This was… an unexpected development. A delicate situation, but perhaps a surprising  _ opportunity _ ...

Caesar caught her hesitation, pointing to a spot just in front of him, giving an amused laugh before talking to her again--

“There. Sit there.”

“Yes, My Lord.” Lex responded, setting down the chair and sitting in it, as formal a posture as she could muster.

“Heh, very good, at least my Vulpes can get his thralls to follow basic commands. I like the servile attitude too, keep it up.”

Lex kept her expression blank, despite the stab of disgust that panged through her. That was something she had gotten quite skilled at--no matter how much she seethed, how much rage boiled in her JUST below her skin… she kept it all in. Better to keep it pure, to let it steep and scald than to give her cousin the satisfaction of knowing the true extent of her torment. Right now, though, it was roiling inside her. Did her cousin know this would happen? Did he send her to be Caesar’s new  _ plaything? _

Caesar’s cocky grin stayed on his face as Lex saw his eyes give her a once-over while he prepared his thoughts. If her heart still worked, it would have skipped a beat at the nauseating gesture.

“So. I’ve been told you’re Vulpes Inculta’s cousin. Is that true?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Hmph, the Legion has no room for  _ family _ , but it seems your  _ cousin _ found a way to skirt that as well. He turned you personally, I know that. He must really enjoy your  _ company _ then, eh?”

Unsure of what Caesar wanted to hear, Lex started to gather an answer. She doubted he was  _ actually _ curious about her, no… but it seemed increasingly likely that whatever Vulpes expected to happen here was not occurring. Then… he had made a  _ mistake _ . One Lex wouldn’t let go unnoticed.

“I doubt it’s my  _ company _ he enjoys, My Lord. He takes great pride in the  _ capabilities _ of his creations.”

An honest answer, at least. She hoped Caesar would confirm what she suspected…

“Yes, he is a prideful one, isn’t he? Always has been  _ ostentatious _ .”

“Oh yes, My Lord.”

Yes, yes… she realized now why she had been sent. She was her cousin’s favorite new  _ trophy _ ; he wanted to display  _ his _ prize… a grave error. The dominoes tumbled in Lex’s mind. She had been using Arcade as a proxy to gain Caesar’s favor against Vulpes, but now had been handed the  _ perfect _ opportunity to get it herself,  _ personally _ . At  _ any _ cost. Caesar made it  _ very _ clear what pleased him, and he was a  _ man _ , subject to all the implications of such. Lex had played this game before… it was  _ very _ simple to gain a man’s favor.

She let her iron poker face break  _ ever  _ so slightly, brows coming together in the smallest of ways, betraying what she hoped seemed a vulnerability. 

“Well, I hope he knows the real value of what he’s  _ peacocking _ . I’d hate for him to cast his  _ pearls _ before swine.” Caesar said as haughtily as ever, easing his posture.

“I would hate that too, My Lord.” Lex answered, a little softer than before, an infinitesimal warble in her voice. 

Caesar smiled, more slyly than before.

“Now, he hasn’t been  _ mistreating _ you, has he?”

Perfect, a simple script to follow.

“My Lord… I’m... not sure it’s my place to answer that.”

She let her posture droop, becoming more withdrawn as her eyes flit away from Caesar for an uncomfortable moment.

“I am your Lord, Caesar, the embodiment of Mars on Earth. If I ask you something, it is up to  _ no one  _ else to decide if it’s your place to answer but  _ me _ . So, tell me the truth.”

He leaned a little closer to her, his words more intense than before.

“...He’s… not  _ kind _ , My Lord. I have no comrades, no family… all he wants is  _ control _ …  it’s very  _ lonely _ .”

“Lonely, hmm? Well, you have some company now, don’t you? The best there possibly could be.”

There was softness in his voice as he leaned more towards Lex. Very simple...

“My Lord…” her eyes flitted back up to his, hovering for a moment, letting tension build in the air between them, “it’s… been a long time since I’ve had company. I’m honored to have yours.”

“You ought to be. Even the strongest and harshest of dictators are capable of  _ warmth _ .”

He extended a hand to gently rest on Lex’s cold knee. His touch was like throwing kerosene on a firepit--oh, oh how MUCH she would stab at her cousin with  _ this _ . There was no disgust that  _ wasn’t _ worth hurting him.

“I wouldn’t know, My Lord… but I suppose I can… find out…” 

She leaned a little closer, only inches between their faces now--

“HAH!” 

Caesar lurched back and clapped his hands together, laughing to himself as Lex froze, watching him. What had she done???

“Hah hah hah!! Oh, Christ, this is  _ great _ . You think I’ve conquered ninety tribes and I  _ don’t _ know what  _ hate _ looks like? This is really  _ fantastic _ .”

He chuckled a few more times as Lex leaned back, her internal scowl now external, living deeply etched into her face as her eyes narrowed. 

“I mean, here you are, in your own personal  _ Hell _ , and what are you doing?? Trying to  _ fuck  _ me? And it’s NOT because you want my favor, no, I can tell--it’s all out of  _ hate _ . You must really hate me, don’t you?” Caesar said, leaning back and smiling toothily.

No point in pretense anymore.

“ _ Yes _ , I  _ do _ ,” Lex spat out, “but I hate my cousin  _ more _ .”

“Exactly!” Caesar said, clapping his hands together again, “you REALLY do! And you’d do ANYTHING to spite him. That is some really  _ deep _ hatred you have. I  _ like _ it. I like  _ this _ . This is convenient, for both of us, you know.”

“ _ Is it? _ ” Lex scowled back.

“Excuse me, is it,  _ who? _ ”

Lex tightened her glare.

“Is it,  _ My Lord? _ ”

Caesar reached out, grabbing her chin in his hand and holding her face towards his--

“Yes, it  _ is _ . I need to teach that little  _ shit  _ cousin of yours that  _ everything _ that  _ belongs _ to him,  _ belongs to  _ **_me_ ** **.** Even his  _ family _ .”

Lex stared at him, unflinching, waiting.  _ Anything _ to spite her cousin. 

Caesar grinned further, speaking a little deeper, rougher--

“I haven’t had a  _ hatefuck _ in  _ years _ . Come on, it’s time you got a chance to work out some of that  _ rage _ .”

He grabbed her hair with his other hand and pulled her lips towards his.

_ Anything.  _ **_Anything_ ** _ to hurt Vulpes. _

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

“You’re really an exquisite creature, you know that?” Caesar cooed, tracing his hand across Lex’s bare back while she laid down on the bed.

She remained silent, lying on her stomach in the bed’s silk sheets. Her quiet pierced far deeper into her than just her superficial demeanor--there was something calm, something  _ focused _ in existing for nothing but a singular goal, fueled only by pure, refined  _ hatred _ . There was nothing else left in her.

“Tell me. How old were you when he turned you?”

“Twenty one.”

“Twenty one! What an age. Prime of your life, captured  _ forever _ in that stone cold body of yours. Better than the finest marbles of Praxiteles. What a special thing. A woman vampire is such a rare beast.”

A beat. Lex didn’t move as she spoke--

“Praxiteles was Greek. Most of the great named sculptors we know were Greek. The Romans spent so much time trying to copy their works, their own names meant nothin’, and were forgotten. There’s a difference between bein’ great and and bein’  _ handed _ somethin’ great.”

A laugh from Caesar.

“Very sharp, yes, that’s why Arcade likes talking to you so much. Sharp, and in control of your own faculties. More than most vampires can say.”

His hand slid down her back further as he talked--

“You know, it’s  _ impressive _ , I mean it, that you have so much hate that you are  _ utterly _ in control of yourself. I wouldn’t trust any other vampire’s mouth near my cock, with all that throbbing  _ blood _ .”

Even further his hand went, below her back, and he grabbed her--she didn’t flinch at all--and he kept talking--

“You’ve got way more control than your  _ ingrate _ cousin. No, I wouldn’t trust him at all--can you imagine! The lips on that pretty little face of his, around my cock. No, I can’t either.”

“...Actually, I can.”

“Something contrary, how  _ bold _ . Tell me.”

The corners of Lex’s mouth perked up almost imperceptibly at the thought--

“You’d end up  _ dickless _ .”

“Hah!” Caesar laughed, “You’re fucking right. I bet the little shit would JUMP at the chance to get on me, and then he’d fuck it all up. Well, I’ll never trust him with  _ that _ , but at least we can both agree he’s an  _ effective _ spymaster. He just needs to keep that ego of his in check.”

Lex sighed softly.

“I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Trust me, it’s  _ possible _ . I won’t allow anyone to have an ego bigger than  _ mine _ , because I  _ know _ I’m better than him; I don’t just  _ think _ it.”   

If Lex had less sense she would have rolled her eyes, but like most everything else, she suppressed the impulse. 

“Well, speaking of that, and speaking of  _ great _ things, today’s the day you’re finally going to be handed something else  _ great  _ by someone  _ truly _ great--by  _ me _ .”

Lex moved now, turning to look at him, a twinge of curiosity on her otherwise blank face. 

“All you have to do is sit there and look pretty. Any minute now, you’ll see.”

He smiled again at her, withdrawing his hand and sitting up in the bed, crossing his ankles and pulling the sheet up into his lap as he leaned back onto the headboard and folded his arms. Lex followed slowly, rolling over and elevating herself, clutching the sheet over her chest.

As if on cue, the curtains into the room fluttered as Vulpes walked in swiftly--

“Ave, Lord-dd--dJESSIE??”

He stopped  _ dead _ in his tracks, mouth agape. Lex’s eyes widened as she clutched the sheet tighter to herself--but the initial shock quickly melted into something so, so much more searing and acute as she returned to her poker face. 

“Did I ask you to speak??” Caesar shot back at him.

“N-no, Lord Caesar.”

“Then you will speak when you are spoken to. So, what’s today’s report?” 

Caesar went from his demand to the question so casually--Lex was incredibly thankful that Vulpes saw Caesar without his cowl and goggles out of respect. She could watch  _ every _ emotion twitch and swirl over her cousin’s face.    
  
“Th-the spy cell we sent into the Boneyard has reported their arrival on--on site, and we are awaiting further reports. President Slater’s assassination is almost ready to be performed, we need only a few days before our agents are, are in place. The newest recruits are--a month away from being ready for the field.”

He shuffled slightly in place.

“That is all, My Lord.” he finished, clipped.

“Good. Some  _ pleasing  _ news from you. Remember well what  _ pleases _ me, Vulpes. There’s only one way YOU can  _ satisfy _ me, and it’d be best to remember that. Now,  _ get the fuck back to work _ .”

“Y-yes, My Lord.” 

Lex could see her cousin’s hands shaking as he whirled around and practically ran out of the room, Lex no longer able to contain a grin.

“That tastes sweet, doesn’t it?” Caesar said, still looking at the flapping curtains where Vulpes had run out, “There are few things I enjoy as much as putting someone in their  _ place _ . You…”

He rolled over, grabbing Lexington and pulling her towards him,

“You  _ understand _ your place. And I  _ reward _ those who know where their place is. You’d best remember that  _ too _ , or you’ll  _ regret  _ it. You  _ understand _ me?”

Whatever brief smile Lex had was long gone now.

“ _ Yes _ , My Lord.”

As bitter as the words were, as much as she wanted to scream and  _ snap _ Caesar’s neck… it was all  **_worth it_ ** , just for the  _ look _ on Vulpes’s face. That was ALL she had now--that look would carry her for a long time, as she searched for ways to see it again. She knew it. She seethed and she knew it. 

“ _ Good girl. _ ”

Caesar looked away for a moment, a small chuckle escaping him.

“So, your name’s ‘Jessie’? No, don’t bother telling me the rest of it. I don’t care.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  

“How… how DARE YOU…” Vulpes growled out, pacing towards Lexington.

She was waiting for him to burst into her room like this. Oh, she was  _ waiting _ . 

“Hmm?? I’m sorry, O mighty  _ Vulpes Inculta _ , what have I  _ done _ ?” she smirked, her lips and hands and body trembling.

“YOU--” 

He clenched and unclenched his fists as Lex watched the rage wash over his face. 

“How DARE you do this to, the--the INSOLENCE, you only insult YOURSELF.”

“Do I??” Lex said, standing up, smile growing.

“YES, you, you, HARLOT. A cheap WHORE, you INSULT--”

She cut him off--

“I insult YOU? Well  _ gee _ , I just  _ don’t _ know  **_what_ ** I was thinkin’.”

He lunged forward, grabbing her by her shirt and slamming her into the wall, easily lifting her off her feet with his height.

“You have NO idea  _ what I am going to DO to you for  _ **_this_ ** .”

Lex laughed in his face--

“Hoo! Better not be anythin’ that Caesar finds out about!!”

“AAAAAH!!!”

Vulpes screamed, slamming her against the wall again and whipping her around to hurl her into the floor, blood in the trail where she had skidded along. Lex felt and  _ heard _ several of her bones snap, but  _ nothing _ felt this GOOD.

“Heh heh!! Hoo!! What’s the matter!! Lost control a’ yer favorite toy!!”

“FUCK--!!”

Vulpes lurched forward, swinging a kick hard into her stomach, knocking the air out of her--

“--YOU!!!”

Another kick, and another, her laughs becoming disjointed wheezes as she coughed up blood through her wide, wide smile. He picked her up again just to slam her back into the wall, cracking more bones as she spat up blood in his face, red specks dotting his pale skin next to his icy blue eyes.

“Th-there is  _ nothin’ _ about you--” she spat up some more blood, “that H-HE hasn’t  _ given _ you, an’ that--that  **he** can’t  _ take away _ , my dear c-cousin…”

“NO!!!!!”

He pulled out a dagger from his belt, jamming it into her stomach and wrenching it down as she crumpled to the floor, blood pouring out from her as she stared at the blade imbedded in her abdomen.

Not once did her smile break.

She locked her gaze with her cousin’s as she slowly pulled out the dagger, flinging it away, no longer able to even wheeze laughs, just sputtering up wet, bloody coughs where the laughs would’ve been, as she felt her vampire body snap bones back into place and begin to stitch back together the gash in her torso. God, it felt GOOD….

Vulpes grabbed his head, shaking, and screamed again--

“DON’T THINK YOU’VE WON  **_ANYTHING!!!_ ** ”

“D-don’t…. l-lie to y-yerself…”

He couldn’t take her grin anymore, his entire body shaking as his eyes widened and he breathed fast, suddenly bolting for the door. Before he could slam it shut, Lex whispered out one last thing, knowing his vampire ears could hear her--

“I… h-hope yer  _ happy _ , A-Arthur…”

She saw him tense before lurching for the door, hurling it shut with a BANG!, almost unhinging it. 

Lex laid there alone in the room, bleeding, wounded, bones broken, bruised, limbs twisted… and she  _ smiled _ . 

IT WAS WORTH IT.


	22. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules goes to give Vulpes a Piece Of Her Mind.

They’ll pay, they’ll  _ both _ pay, she’ll make their lives  _ MISERABLE! _ Lex  _ wanted _ to kill her, she’d known it the entire time! If she has to be dead she’ll haunt them so bad those bloodsucking fucks will  _ WISH _ they could die!

Jules snaps her fingers and tosses a ball of sparks down on the sigils scribbled into the sand, dotted with her blood. The resulting flames shoot up above her head, hotter than they’ve ever been with her anger and she strides through them-- into the Lucky 38, a hallway lined with locked doors...save for one.

The one on the far end. It slams shut with a BANG!, and who should she see storming down the hallway, barely biting back his own rage, but Vulpes himself. If he sees her he pays her no mind, something else  _ clearly _ gnawing at his. Curious, Jules follows him. If he’s already this upset it won’t be much work to make it worse.

He slams his own door shut but she slips through anyway-- perks of being incorporeal. He’s pacing like a caged animal, predatory without having prey, running his hands through hair that’s getting just barely too long for his liking. Ripping his hood off, his armor, throwing it across the room, yanking books off his desk and slamming them to the ground with such force they bounce right back up before landing again. His words are unintelligible in his rage, but Jules thinks she catches “INSULT!” and “INSOLENCE!” and “WHORE!”

Vulpes stops-- freezes in his tracks. His muscles tense and Jules sees his fists clench, shaking.

“ _ You, _ ” he seethes, still facing away from her. “I don’t need  _ you _ here. If you don’t leave  _ immediately _ I will send you to the  _ deepest _ circle of Hell myself, mark my words.”

Jules can’t resist. She materializes, perched on the edge of his bed. “What’s the matter,  _ Vool-piss? _ Caesar give you the wrong blood type for your midday snack?”

A book flies through the space her head would be if she had substance. “ _ GET OUT! _ ”

“I don’t have to.”

He mutters some Latin under his breath and his fingers start to glow-- the banishment spell, she remembers from that first time she appeared in the casino. Less powerful than the ritual he’s been having Lex try but dangerous all the same. She dodges just as he spins and throws the spell at her; it singes the heels of her boots.

“Aw, c’mon,  _ Vool-piss _ , what’s wrong? You wanna  _ talk _ about it? Tell me about your  _ feelings? _ ” This is dangerous, she knows it’s dangerous, but it’s just too good to  _ finally _ have the chance to antagonize him.

“Why don’t you go ask your  _ friend? _ Your  _ harlotry _ clearly rubbed off on her.”

“Your cousin?” Jules cocks an eyebrow. “Nah, I’d rather hang out with  _ you _ , you’re not the one who ripped my throat open-- but  _ both _ of you wanted me dead the entire time, though, huh?” Her voice has darkened, along with her expression. “ _ That _ was nice to learn, let me tell you.”

Vulpes pauses, tilting his head as a smile slowly starts to split his face. “Yes...the truth hurts, doesn’t it, Courier? Not even the one who resurrected you saw anything of worth in you in the end. At least not more than that of a meal.”

Jules focuses all her energy and lunges forward, her hands wrapping around his throat-- but god, it’s almost impossible to keep a hold on him, her grip fading and returning in cycles as she wavers between planes. Scratches and tears and shattering screams are one thing; actually maintaining a corporeal form long enough to strangle a man is another entirely.

Vulpes rolls away when she blinks back to the wasteland for just a moment but forces herself to return to the Lucky 38, but by the time she’s got her bearings again his spell’s prepared and he hurls it at her, the banishment hitting her square in the chest. The room dissolves as she falls backwards, landing hard on her back in the desert again. She’s still glowing with the spell, and when she approaches the still-burning sigils they extinguish themselves immediately when she sets foot in the ring. 

“Fuck!” Jules lights them again, but again she tries to enter and again they go out. She’s stranded here until the spell wears off. Damn it,  _ now _ what is she supposed to do?


	23. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas handles some Family Business and reflects on his past a bit.

“Now, the way I see it, Mr. Wright-- Christopher, was it?-- you got a couple’a options to consider.” Silas straightens his cuff links. “One, we can end this peaceably. You ain't gettin’ any younger-- an’ we both know that son a’ yours isn't cut out for this business. Your family's on the way out, whether you see it yet or not. So you an’ yours agree to our terms-- our  _ very generous _ terms, Christopher-- an’ you all get to walk outta here, free as a bird, provided you don't try an’ take New Reno away from me again. I get my city back, you all get to keep livin’ here as long as you behave yourselves an’ pay your rent.

“Or-- an’ judgin’ by how you came in guns blazin’ to our  _ talks _ two weeks ago, I can see how you might be  _ inclined  _ towards this route-- we keep this turf war goin’ on, and on, and on, and on, until there ain't a single one'a your family  _ left _ to surrender.” He settles behind his desk, fingers steepled, his gaze drifting over the man across from him. “I’m a forgivin’ man,  _ Mis _ ter Wright. But my forgiveness only extends so far. You attack  _ me _ an’ my  _ wife? _ In our own  _ house? _ I don't think I can give you another chance, you turn this one down.”

Wright was wrested from his family's casino and dragged into Silas’ office to answer for himself after a drawn-out chase and fight, and every inch of him looks it. Blackened eyes never break with Silas’ own, pure resentment boring out of them like the blood pouring from his nose. “You can't  _ threaten _ me, Silas. I won't be talked down to by a man younger than my  _ son _ .”

“What'd you just call me?” Silas lifts a finger and Wright's head slowly tilts upward with it against his own will. “I ain't gonna tolerate that kinda  _ disrespect _ , Mr. Wright.” His finger drifts slowly from left to right, up and down, Wright's head following its every move. Suddenly he lifts a second finger, flicks both to his right without so much as a blink and Wright goes flying, yanked from his seat and slammed into the bookshelves against the wall with a solid CRACK! of bone and wood colliding. Books and knickknacks littering the shelves cascade down onto his head, the final insult delivered by a small bust of some long-gone deity Wright neither recognized nor cared to.

“Just a little reminder of  _ who _ you're dealin’ with, Mr. Wright.” Silas swivels his chair to face him and raises his right hand ever so slightly-- the heavy mahogany bookshelf tilts forward with a menacing  _ creeeeaak _ .

“Your...your whore mother's  _ bastard _ son...?”

“Bastard son of a  _ god,  _ thank  _ you _ .” Wright's a tough old man, Silas'll give him that. But tough, even New Reno mob king tough, is still no match for divine power. He toys with the idea of letting the bookcase topple and crush the man underneath it, finishing off the rival who'd yanked New Reno out from under him years before...but no. Not  _ yet _ , anyway. “Lucky for you, I'm feelin’  _ charitable _ today.”

The shelf rights itself and the books float back into place with Silas’ hand waves. Wright still fumes on the floor, at least until he's waved up as well. Silas motions him over in front of the desk again and neatly folds his hands.

“I want us to be  _ friends, _ Mr. Wright. You know how valuable my  _ friendship _ is. Means the difference between doin’ well, runnin’ your own little family business as long as it has left, an’ goin’ the way of the Salvatores. You remember them, don’cha?” He smiles, radiating pure charm that would be a waste of time were it coming from anyone else. Wright relaxes under his smattering of blood and bruises as he leans forward and straightens his jacket with a snap.

“Yeah, I remember. Don't want that to happen to us.”

“Of course you don't.” Silas stands, extending his hand for a shake. “So we have an agreement?”

“...Yes.”

“Yes  _ who? _ ”

Wright takes his hand and shakes it, firm and deliberate. “Yes,  _ Mr. Bishop _ .”

“Good.” Silas returns to his seat. Something's off about Wright-- his posture, his tone of voice...the charm hadn't worked on him, not entirely. His brow furrows as he looks over the other man. “You ain't gonna cause me any trouble, now, are you? No backstabbin’? No betrayin’ my  _ trust? _ ”

“Why would I do such a thing to my... _ friend? _ I'm offended you'd even ask it.”

“Humor me.”

“Of course I wouldn't. You have my word.”

“Uh huh.” Silas brings his folded hands up to cover his frown and lets his eyes drift away from Wright's face. “Thing is, Mr. Wright, I don't  _ trust _ your word.”

Wright's hand shoots across to the inside of his jacket and yanks out a .22 pistol but Silas is faster than Wright's aim, his own hand clawing and twisting and Wright's neck snapping as his head whips entirely backwards and he collapses, chest to the floor and eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Silas sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. This isn't how he'd wanted this  _ conversation _ to go. Or, well, the  _ end result  _ is what he'd wanted but he could have done without a bloodied corpse staining his rug. Wright was going to die, that much had been certain from the ambush at their previous meeting, but Silas would've preferred something...showier. Snapped neck in a private office, that sends a message to no one.

He picks up the phone on his desk and dials a quick series of numbers, quiet whirring and clicking filling the silence. The voice on the other end picks up with a gruff “Yeah?” and Silas answers just as simply: “He's dead. Wipe 'em out.”

He hangs up without another word and walks around to Wright's corpse, nudging it a little with his foot. Its sleeve slides up a bit to reveal ink on its wrist-- Silas kneels to investigate and recognizes the symbol. An anti-charm tattoo, fresh, still tender and pink around the edges. Smart sonofabitch.

Silas waves the bodyguards outside into his office for cleanup duty-- they should have searched Wright for weapons when they brought him in, he thinks, unless one of them was actually  _ working _ for the Wrights...and if that was the case, well, let him have fun disposing of his boss’s body. He'd  _ discipline _ them both later. Let them get comfortable, think they hadn't made a mistake...then bring the ax down when they least expect it.

He finds Claudia at the casino bar, martini in hand as she watches their patrons with her eagle eye. Anything suspicious, anything out of place, and he knows she'll be on top of it in less than a heartbeat.

“Wright's dead,” he says, waving the bartender over for a drink of his own.

“That quickly?”

“Not my first choice, but he tried to pull a gun on me.”

“What an  _ idiot. _ ”

“You're tellin’ me.” He leans back against the bar next to her. “They'll all be gone by the end of the night. We're back on top.”

Her eyebrows raise momentarily-- the most emotion she allows herself on the casino floor. “Good. Very good.”

“Hard to believe all those years boiled down to just…” Silas mimes breaking Wright's neck again. “Just a second.”

“Should've done it sooner.”

“Probably.” He takes a long sip from his drink. “Say, did you ever get in touch with your sister?”

“She sent a gang of fiends after one of our caravans last week. I imagine she's gotten word of their slaughter by now.”

“Not her, Gloria.”

Claudia winced. “Of course, Gloria...sorry, Frieda’s just. A distraction. A  _ thorn _ in my  _ side _ that's impossible to get rid of.”

“Well, we have the  _ resources _ now that the Wrights ain't a problem. I'll see what we can do.”

“I did talk with Gloria, though, last night.”

“How's she doin’?”

“Well enough for being dead. Jean Baptiste finally wrapped up his unfinished business, something with the Gun Runners, I think.”

“Good for him.”

“About that girl in your dreams, though. The one you said looks like Eliza.” Claudia's eyes flick from roulette tables to slot machines to blackjack to poker. “Gloria hasn't heard of her. Says no one with Eliza's essence has passed through her way-- and  _ everyone _ passes through her way.”

“Damn.”

“We can try astral projection, see where that gets us.”

“It doesn't  _ feel _ like the astral plane, Claud, that's not where she is. I'd  _ know _ if it was the astral plane.” The wrongness wouldn't linger, or even be  _ present _ , it bears at least passing similarity to the mortal plane, he can interact with others there...the tells are countless, but he knows Claudia doesn't need to be reminded of them any more than he does.

“It's worth a try. Do you want to figure this out or just let those dreams keep getting worse?”

He sighs. The dreams have been keeping him awake, and he can’t stand this feeling of constantly being on the edge. Sooner or later it'll affect his ability to do his job and he can't afford that, not with the Bishops so recently back in charge. “...Yeah, let's give it a shot, then.”

Silas has done astral projection before. The first time by accident, when he was thirteen and just starting to fully grasp the power his divine heritage gave him. He'd been alone and, he was loathe to admit at the time, terrified floating in the void, nothing in sight but his own translucent body-- and the silver tether on his back he quickly learned led him back home.

The second time was intentional, a few weeks later after he'd done some research and thought he had a handle on it. What he was able to track down in books told him it was dangerous to go alone and so someone should always project with him, or at least wait on the mortal plane-- just in case. Silas knew better than to ask his mother, who'd tried her best to suppress any traces of his godly heritage until it was impossible to keep up the charade, or his sister, twenty years his senior and barely in contact with her family anymore, or heaven forbid his  _ father _ (though the fact that Silas wasn't John Bishop’s blood was New Reno's worst-kept secret, and barely anyone could keep a secret in New Reno) so he recruited his girlfriend, who was from a decidedly non-magical family and thus very curious-- but very skeptical-- about the whole endeavor. With his better knowledge of the situation and the control that actively going to the astral plane had given him the void cleared within moments, revealing a stark white space that coalesced into the familiar mountains surrounding New Reno. Familiar but...different. Vibrant colors in the hills bled into each other, the river ran clear and the city's lights shone behind him without drowning out the thousands-- thousands!-- of stars sprinkled across the night sky, forming the shapes he'd taught himself to search for and recognize. It was comfortably cool, and quiet, and he found it beautiful.

The third time he took Eliza with him.

The fourth time was two years later, when he was fifteen, and he was alone again both on the astral plane and the mortal one, searching for Eliza after she'd vanished without a trace; he had already left New Reno to look for her in California but maybe, he thought, just maybe she hadn't been kidnapped or killed by another family, maybe she'd tried astral projection on her own and gotten herself stranded, maybe she was there and he could bring her back-- she wasn't, and he hadn't. After nearly three years he returned to New Reno empty-handed and took back the reins of the Bishop family from the sister who'd never really wanted them anyway, leading them to power and holding the whole city in his hands.

Since then Silas has visited the astral plane several times, using it as neutral ground for family negotiations, to spy on someone conspiring against him,  sometimes even-- until he met and married Claudia Van Graff-- still looking for Eliza, hoping beyond hope she'd appear.

And in a way, with this lookalike he's been dreaming about, he supposes she has.

Claudia kneels beside him on their living room floor, sigils drawn meticulously in black ink on the wood around him. She waits for his nod to light her candles and begin reciting the spell-- almost as soon as she does he falls into a deep sleep, the deepest he's had in years. He comes around again and the void dissipates into the desert with the unfamiliar stars, endless flat landscape bisected by a trail of red-- it  _ is _ red, not black now that he's not merely dreaming. 

Silas follows the trail and already feels different. The feeling of not belonging, of trespassing is still present, but lessened, and the sand reacts to his presence now, leaving a second trail of his footprints beside the bloody one. His vision’s sharper, more stable, except around the very edges where it's still blurry. An improvement regardless.

The trail stops a few yards ahead of him-- at the girl, sitting on the ground beside a circle scrawled with blood and panic, hugging her knees to her chest and hanging her head. Silas slows-- he can hear her, she's  _ crying _ . He has to do  _ something _ , or at least  _ try _ , even though experience says she doesn't even know he's there. Why else would she be haunting his dreams-- why else would he find her so quickly on the  _ infinite _ astral plane? He circles around and comes to a stop within his arm's reach in front of her, whispering a gentle “Hey...you alright?”

She lifts her head and looks up at him.


	24. Lafayette Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here we finally meet Lafayette Jones, and see how Vegas is faring under the Legion.

Farkas has Lafayette patrolling Freeside again tonight-- told her she'd rather be perched up on the wall or on a roof but Julie insisted, said they have too few bodies to be able to spare a sniper. So the streets it is, pacing around the east side of town in her full ranger gear, NCR emblems and insignia long since scrubbed from its plates.

Always worked better as a sniper-- quieter, less to cloud her mind and get focus. Just her and her spotter...not even a spotter these days. Not enough soldiers to go 'round, Farkas said, but it worked fine for Lafayette.

She can still feel the Legion guards’ brainwaves even from this distance: their hostility towards the townsfolk a sharp blade slicing get skin, the pressure of boredom crushing her chest, hot spikes poking into her spine at their centurion's command when they spring into long-awaited action against one of the Kings harassing them. The centurion's voice rumbles, wordless but taunting, above the rest of their noise-- the King’s fear shrill and piercing weaving through it and cut off all too quickly.

_ God, _ how does Farkas expect her to do her job like this? Lafayette knows Julie knows  _ something _ , if not the specifics at least that she has... _ enhanced senses _ ; even the Rangers had accommodated that, caring  _ significantly _ less than the rest of California whether or not their soldiers had any  _ ability _ . But Farkas keeps  _ doing _ this, no wonder they're losing. Well forget that. She'll be more use up and away from this cacophony of minds than she ever would be on the ground. Who would put a  _ doctor _ in charge of  _ strategy… _

Lafayette scales a rusted fire escape to the roof of an apartment building, settling in and taking careful aim through the scope of her rifle. Even climbing just three stories above the street has cleared her mind significantly, the legionaries dampened enough for her to keep a lookout for anything that needs her attention. Her head still tingles with the buzz of life below, even this late at night, but it's no longer an obstacle to her watch.

And then there's a sudden quiet at the gate to the Strip, an island of stillness amidst the guards’ clamoring. Steady, measured thoughts ring out from it like the tolling of a church bell, far enough away to be indiscernible but Lafayette nevertheless feels a cold chill down her spine. She looks up from her scope towards the gate, sees the legionaries part, peeks back through the scope for a better look at this new player-- a pale young woman with scraggly brown hair in defaced combat armor, marching stone-faced and deliberate down the street. She snarls at a recruit and Lafayette's heart skips a beat at the sight of her  _ fangs-- _ goddamn it, GODDAMN IT!

Sniping her won't do anything, of course it won't, just throw Freeside into more danger when the Legion comes to hunt down the sniper-- Lafayette hones her focus on the woman, tracking each footstep, nudging just forward enough to see the events of the next few minutes, hoping to discern her destination…

The Wrangler. Of  _ course _ it's the Wrangler.

Abandon the rifle-- she can come back for it later. Lafayette bolts to the fire escape, sliding down ladders, dropping onto the ground and takes off running, slipping through back alleys and empty buildings; she has to get to the Wrangler first, she  _ has _ to, or that's  _ it _ for all of them. The vampire's thoughts boom louder and louder as she approaches, a twisted mimicry of a heartbeat; Lafayette skids to a stop at the end of the alley beside the bar she'd seen in the vision and checks her revolver-- the ends of five silver bullets stamped with the  _ LDS _ of the New Canaanites’ smiths shine in the Wrangler's lights. Snap it shut again, take a deep breath and wait. Won't be long now.

The vampire reaches the end and Lafayette rounds the corner into her path, gun aimed squarely between her eyes. “I've got five blessed silver bullets and an itchy trigger finger so unless you want a hole in your head the size of New Reno you're gonna do _ exactly _ as I say. Understand?”

Nodding slowly, the vampire raises her hands. “Don't you move that fucking gun,” she whispers, stepping backwards into the alley's shadows at Lafayette's prodding.

“Don't plan to. Now what the  _ fuck _ are you doing here?”

Her thoughts ram up against Lafayette's, unrelenting but indiscernible. Hints of confusion, not surprise-- known she was there, probably smelled her, but not  _ why _ or  _ how _ . Underneath it a heavy, anguished weight sitting in the pit of her stomach...she  _ let _ herself get caught? Had to be. Only reason her teeth aren't in Lafayette's throat right now. But  _ why? _

The vampire's speaking again. “Frumentarii business.”

“What  _ kind _ of frumentarii business? That bloodsucking bastard in charge doesn't waste his time in Freeside; why's he changed his mind?”

“Probably my fault.” She locks eyes with Lafayette. “He sent me to wipe your resistance out.”

No--  _ no!! _ God _ damn _ it! Not telling her anything she hasn’t already figured out but...there'd at least been a shred of hope...Lafayette's own wave of revulsion and terror sweeps away the despair emanating from the vampire; without a word she cocks the hammer on her gun before the sentence is out of her mouth.

The vampire shakes her head and cracks a wry grin. “If you actually manage to kill me, I'll fucking  _ thank _ you. I don't want... _ any _ of this.” Her anguish crashes forward again, dragging Lafayette into the depths with her. “He already had me kill your agents in Jacobstown-- he just-- he thinks it's  _ fun _ , forcing me to slaughter my own.”

_ Her own _ . Then why'd the frumentarii enthrall her instead of killing her outright? Would've made their lives easier, not like a vampire would have an easy time gaining the underground's trust. “You're really not with them.”

“You think they'd let a woman in their ranks?”

“The Courier.”

“They  _ burned _ her.”

Fair. “ _ Prove _ you're not with them.”

“I--” The vampire stops to think, her tide of despair ebbing and replaced by the steady rhythm of thoughts again. “There's a frumentarius watching you. That's how Vulpes Inculta knew where to send me.”

“Where?”

“Silver Rush.”

Lafayette presses the gun's barrel to her forehead, backing her against the wall of the building next to the Wrangler. “You sure?”

“Swear to God.” She shudders at her own words. “I don't want to hurt you-- I  _ want _ you to destroy the Legion, it's the  _ only _ thing I want anymore.”

Lafayette doesn't move.

“What if I can help you?” The vampire meets her eyes again. “I can give you frumentarii intel, straight from the man in charge himself. I can tell you where all his spies are, what he's planning, how you can counter it...let me help you, it's the least I can offer after what he's forced me to do.” She blinks back an onslaught of tears-- no insidious prickles of deception coming off her, just pulses of desperation and bitter resentment.

“If your story doesn't check out,” she says, watching for any indication of an attack-- a lip twitching upwards to bare fangs, tensing muscles, slowing, hyperfocused thoughts-- “if I find  _ anything _ that points to you lying, I will  _ personally _ put a stake through your heart.”

“It'd be a blessing at this point.” The vampire’s eyes are redder now, leaking the tears she's failing to contain. “I've-- he made me kill so many of you-- people I used to  _ know _ , God, their faces when they saw me...I'm sorry, I'm so sorry--”

Lafayette backs away but the vampire stays put, trying to compose herself.

“I'm one of you-- I'm one of  _ you _ \--”

Lafayette shakes her head, wincing at the sharp stabs of pain coming off her, and shifts her focus away from the vampire to prod at the wall beside her. Old, crumbling, barely any care put into the upkeep, not with the Wrangler right next door and certainly not after the Legion's arrival...one hit should do it. Big enough to stun her but certainly not enough to kill.

“Please...I'm one of you, I'm not with them…”

“ _ Enough _ .” Lafayette drops the gun from her forehead to her thigh and fires, gunshot and cry of pain masked by the crash of bricks hitting pavement as all the adrenaline and anxiety she's held back bursts forth in a psychic blast, rattling the Wrangler, snapping the vampire out of her hysterics just as the empty building next to her collapses and buries her in debris. Even through the dust Lafayette can tell she's still there-- steady drumbeat of her thoughts, tinged with confusion. Reflexes weren't quick enough after all.

Lafayette coughs and waves dust out of her face. “You stay right there. Everything lines up, I'll be back for you.”

No response, just the steady beat-beat-beat of the vampire's thoughts. She holsters her gun and takes off for the Fort, glancing over her shoulder the whole time. Legion catches her out alone-- this late especially-- it won't be pretty...foolish to leave her helmet behind. No one on her route, not at the moment, should be able to make it back alright.

The shock on Farkas’ face when Lafayette throws open the door to her quarters makes the hassle of dealing with her worth it. “Farkas! Where'd those Chavez kids go? Got a situation at the Silver Rush we need to deal with, _ now _ .”


	25. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules finally stops to talk with Lex.

The desert dissolves into the all-too-familiar sight of Lex kneeling in front of a salt circle, a bandage curiously around her thigh, and a few candles dimly lighting the room. Jules rolls her eyes-- summoned again just to be let go again, all to make Vulpes happy. Letting her escape only to keep yanking her back for mock banishments was a new kind of torture for him, one she should have expected.

Except...Vulpes isn't there. And Lex is brushing away the salt, freeing Jules to roam around as she pleases-- or to  _ leave _ . She's gathering herself to do so when Lex's voice stops her.

“Jules, I know you don't want to talk to me or even see me anymore, and I don't blame you but...please, just hear me out. I-- I'm  _ so sorry _ , Jules, I'm sorry I killed you, I'm sorry you have to go through this,  _ none _ of this was supposed to happen.” She blinks back tears and takes a shaky breath, steadying herself on her hands. “I didn't want any of this. Not-- not what happened to me, or what happened to  _ you _ , I...I'm so sorry, Jules, I wish I could undo everything.”

Jules takes a few cautious steps away from the remaining salt and sigils, then a few more, then starts pacing around the room, her steps silent. “A little late for that.”

“I know, but...you have to believe me, I didn't want to kill you.”

“Sure seemed like you did.” Half-hearted, Jules tries to pinch out a candle’s flame-- nothing. “What, just two words from your  _ cousin _ and that's it? Everything that happened, that entire road trip from Hell was for  _ nothing? _ ” She scoffs. “You wanted me dead the entire time, the least you could've done was set me loose in Legion land so I wouldn't fall for your  _ lies _ about friendship. Hell, why even resurrect me if you're just going to kill me again?”

“Jules, I--” Lex frowns, shakes her head. “I didn't want you dead, who said that?”

“I heard you and Vulpes talking. Dunno how long ago it was, time's all fucked up when you're  _ dead _ .” Jules turns and looks at Lex,  _ really _ looks at her for the first time since her death-- well, since  _ both _ of their deaths, she supposes. Her face is drawn, eyes sunken and dull; the pink’s faded from her hair, dull tips left behind on brown locks. She looks like the corpse she is but more than that she looks  _ tired _ , god, she looks so tired. Post-life, ghostly or otherwise, hasn't been kind to either of them.

Jules drifts across the room again, Lex watching her every move. “I don't know what kind of spell he put on you, but...god, if anyone was stubborn enough to break it it would've been you.” They lock eyes. “So why didn't you  _ do _ something?”

Lex shakes her head. “It wasn't a spell, Jules...when he... _ turned  _ me, he put me under his control. He  _ enthralled _ me. I don't have a choice but to obey him even if I don't want to. Whoever turned him would've had the same power over him.”

“Your accent?”

“Made me get rid of it because it wasn't 'proper’.”

Jules mulls it over. Lex had... _ resurrected _ her, had rescued her from the Brotherhood when they were determined to burn her a second time, she'd kept her promise to stick around and keep her alive...until Vulpes. Vulpes, who'd swooped in and ruined everything for her, as was his wont. In her despair, she realizes, in her grief and mourning for herself, she'd forgotten her main rule of dealing with him:  _ Vulpes lies _ . The only time he's been truthful is to  _ ruin _ her, humiliate her before setting her ablaze. “So...this is a vampire thing.”

“...Yeah. Yeah, it's a vampire thing.” Lex lets out a little chuckle despite herself, but her face quickly falls again. “He  _ forced _ me to kill you, Jules, I tried to-- I tried to resist it, but it's impossible-- it felt like I was being torn in two.”

Jules stops in front of her, still eyeing her skeptically. Vulpes lies, but how could she be sure his cousin wasn't? Paranoia tightens its grip on her again-- she has to be  _ sure _ . Make Lex  _ convince _ her. “Why should I believe you? For all I know the two of you intended this from the minute you found him in Ivanpah.”

“Jules…” Lex hesitates. “He took  _ God  _ away from me.”

“... _ What? _ ”

Despite her best efforts, anguish permeates Lex's every word. “He forbid me from praying. I can't even mumble out an 'Our Father who art in heaven’ without…” She trails off, the last of her words strangled with a sudden nausea, and wavers a little before steadying herself again.

No. Oh  _ no. _ Lex wouldn't lie about this, not without Vulpes here...not even with Vulpes here. Jules feels a pang deep in her stomach, a pang of...what? Sympathy? Regret? She doesn't have a precise word for this mix, but what she does recognize is the simmering anger just under her skin, bubbling up at what Vulpes had done. How  _ dare _ he?! Thinks so highly of himself to take such a core element of his cousin and replace it with  _ himself _ \-- thinks he can control  _ either  _ of them through magic or-- or  _ fear _ or both-- how  _ fucking _ dare he?!

Jules nods, jaw clenching, and lowers herself to sit cross-legged the floor where the salt circle once was so she's on eye level with Lex. “That  _ motherfucker _ . Where is he, I'll  _ kill him _ . I'll drive a stake  _ right _ into that fucking black hole he calls a  _ heart _ for doing this to you-- to  _ us _ , Lex, we're just pieces in a  _ game  _ to him but I'm  _ done _ playing, I'm  _ done _ with this  _ bullshit _ trying to banish me and-- and  _ using _ you to do it and--”

Lex motions for her to keep her rising voice in check. “He can't be far off. And he can hear  _ everything _ . If he hears me, well,  _ not _ banishing you, it ain't gonna go well fer either of us.”

There it is-- a little tinge of Utah in her voice. Not all of her is dead and gone after all. Jules nods, a smirk growing on her face as she leans forward. “But I  _ want _ him to know--  _ I'm coming for him _ . He's going to regret  _ everything _ .”

“I am?”

_ Vulpes _ .

He's looming in the doorway off to the side, dead eyes hidden behind his goggles, blood still dripping off his fanged grin from his latest meal. “You really didn't know about vampires’ charm, Courier? It's common enough knowledge; you'd have to be  _ willfully  _ ignorant to not know it.”

Jules bolts up and storms at him, fury now reaching a boiling point. “You  _ FUCKING ASSHOLE! _ ” She rakes her nails across his face, leaving deep gouges that, to her dismay, heal before her eyes, his smile unaffected in the slightest.

“Jessie?” He looks over Jules at his cousin. “Do something for me--  _ take your knife and cut your throat. _ ”

Jules whips around with an anguished “ _ NO! _ ” but it's too late for Lex; blood is already pouring in a thick red sheet from the slash her knife draws ear to ear-- it falls from her hand and she falls with it, her eyes wide in horror at her own actions, her cousin's self-satisfied chuckle. She's still alive-- well, still  _ conscious _ \-- when Jules dives for Vulpes, slamming into him with as much force as she can muster, shoulder colliding with chestplate and a solid CRACK! of bone.

“I will rip  _ EVERY _ tooth from your jaw and make you  _ SWALLOW _ them, you undead  _ FUCK! _ ” She swipes at his own neck, clawed fingers gouging through flesh, spraying blood over the wall in a graceful arc. He staggers backwards, the smile still present and growing even wider.

“I'd like to see you try, Courier.” He steps not around her but  _ through _ her to pull Lex off the ground and prop her up in front of him. “ _ Don't let her lay a  _ **_finger_ ** _ on me, Jessie. _ ”

Jules freezes. The spell she's preparing to throw at Vulpes burns in her palm, white-hot and crackling...but Lex is in the way. She steps to the side to get a clearer shot at him-- Lex follows. To the other side-- Lex keeps following, still bleeding, still breathing ragged, wheezing breaths. No matter how much Jules circles Vulpes,  _ Lex _ is constantly in front of her, his new sentient shield.

“Stand down, Lex,” she whispers, voice wavering. “I can end this, it'll be over...just let me  _ kill him _ .”

Lex shakes her head slowly and rasps out, “I can't.”

Jules hurls the spell but Lex is quick and jumps in front of it to block Vulpes, only a splash glancing off his cowl. He shrugs, as if to say 'better luck next time’, and meanders across the room. His cousin does not leave his side, even as another spell from Jules hits her square in the chest. More and more spells singe her clothes, bloody her skin; when those fail and the blood is gushing from Jules’ own neck wound from the effort she throws whatever she can pick up in her desperation-- SOMETHING has to hit him, SOMETHING has to wipe that smirk off his face! Books and candles go flying at them and Lex bats them away; a chair does nothing more than knock her down momentarily. Jules can  _ hear _ Lex's bones breaking with each blow from a spell but she  _ still doesn't stop _ , neither of them do.

Lex is barely standing now, knees shaking with each heavy step-- she stopped looking Jules in the eye a long time ago, focused only on her one task: keeping  _ Vulpes Inculta _ from harm as he putters about, mumbling to himself about God knows what. Jules can't catch her breath and the room is spinning around her, but she casts yet another spell, only to have it blocked yet again before it even comes close to Vulpes’ face. She can't-- she can't-- she's stayed here too long, she's exerted herself too much, this can't last much--

The smell of burning rosemary hits her and knocks what breath remains out of her lungs.

“...requiem æternam dona ei Domine. Et lux perpetua luceat ei.” With the increase in volume she can hear what Vulpes has been muttering-- it's the banishment ritual, right under her nose as she'd been trying to kill him, masked by the sounds of spells and cracking bones and her and Lex's own shouts and cries of pain.

“ _ You _ son of a  _ BITCH! _ ” She lunges for him, fingers clawed and ready to rip out his throat, but Lex catches her instead, taking advantage of her temporary corporeal form to grab ahold of her shoulders and keep her in place with a grip strong enough to crush iron. Her eyes meet Jules’ again, brimming with tears.  _ I'm sorry _ , she mouths,  _ I'm so sorry _ .

Vulpes shrugs again, waving the rosemary back and forth above their heads mockingly. “Requiescat...in  _ pace _ , Courier.” He clears his throat and stares her down one last time.

“In nomine Patris--” He winces. “--et Filii--” He winces again. “--et Spiritus Sancti--” A final flinch before he composes himself. “--ut  _ éxeas _ ab hoc loco.”

Jules loses all control over her form, the clawed hand embedded in her spine yanking her backwards, out of Lex's hands as she becomes incorporeal again. The last thing she sees before. the Lucky 38 shatters is Lex collapsing in a bloody mess at Vulpes feet. That smile has never once faltered or fallen from his face.

She lands hard on the sand-- she can't move, she can barely keep her head above the surface of consciousness; all she can do is wait and watch the blood pool around her until it finally stops as much as it ever does.

Vulpes...Lex...she should have  _ known _ Vulpes fucked with her like that. Lex would never join the Legion, not willingly. Jules had let her fear overwhelm her and  _ convince _ her Lex hated her too, despite every sign otherwise-- her resurrection, the promise to get her somewhere safe, coming back for her and rescuing her from the Brotherhood's witch hunt...all of that had just...gone out the window the second Vulpes  _ suggested _ what she'd always feared, deep in the back of her mind. She'd wasted her wrath on the wrong person--  _ Vulpes _ is to blame for this, not Lex. Of course.

When the gushing from her neck slows to a trickle again, Jules pushes herself onto her knees and starts drawing. Sigils scribbled in blood on the sand, just like every other time-- she'd make Vulpes  _ suffer _ for this. He'd be driving a stake into his  _ own _ heart by the time--

The sigils won't light.

Jules snaps her fingers and throws another flame down but nothing changes. It's still just a crimson circle seeping into the ground, not even a spark. She tries again-- nothing. Again-- still nothing.  _ Again _ \-- this can't be happening, how come it's not working?! Again-- again-- again--  _ again-- again-- AGAIN-- _

There is  _ nothing _ .

She sinks down from where she stood, back to her knees again, a new black pit of despair yawning in her chest. She's trapped-- she's  _ trapped _ , stuck on whatever plane this actually is, no way out, no way to even  _ contact _ anyone. Alone, for real now,  _ forever _ . And ever. And  _ ever _ .

Jules curls into herself, resting her head on her knees, and sobs, loud and open, no one else around to mock her for it-- or to comfort her; she's really and truly  _ alone _ , banished from the mortal plane, from every other plane for the rest of _ eternity _ .

Her eyes hurt, her chest hurts,  _ everything _ hurts as she cries for hours, days,  _ weeks _ on end, who knows how long, time is meaningless now. Nothing changes, not even the stars above her; she may as well be...all her idioms fail her. She's  _ already _ dead. Already in limbo. None of it matters anymore.

Jules doesn't even move. It's pointless, she wouldn't get anywhere anyway, so she just stays by her sigils of dried blood, a memorial to herself and the time she'd wasted, in life and in death. Her tears, like her blood, keep flowing, her sobs downgraded to quiet whimpers of despair.

“Hey,” a man's voice says above her, unfamiliar but...unfamiliar but  _ sympathetic.  _ “You alright?”

She lifts her head to look up at the speaker, not even bothering to wipe her face. He's impeccably dressed in pinstripe slacks, suspenders and an impossibly white shirt, clean-shaven, blonde and graying at the temples with dark eyes that land on her bleeding neck with concern, and he's  _ glowing _ , just a little bit around the edges, and a little translucent like he's not all present on this plane.

A little chuckle slips past her lips as she wipes her nose. “Are you  _ God? _ ” Looks like Lex was right after all, with her blonde-haired blue-eyed Mormon Jesus. Wouldn't  _ she _ be jealous Jules got to meet him.

The man laughs a bit himself and settles on the ground beside her, careful to avoid the sigils. “Not quite. I'm Silas. Silas Bishop.” 

He offers her a handshake, and, after a moment's hesitation, she accepts. “Jules McAllister. I...I’m  _ really  _ happy you're here.”


	26. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas finally gets to meet Jules properly.

She's Eliza. She's Eliza and  _ him _ , with her delicate features and gold-blonde hair and wide, deep blue eyes. Silas blinks and her face stays the same-- this is her, truly, not some illusion in a dream. His pulse quickens but he keeps his face blank. Can't give this away, not yet, just in case he's jumped to the wrong conclusion…

She wipes her running nose on her jacket sleeve and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Are you _ God? _ ”

“Not quite,” Silas laughs. Carefully avoiding the bloody circle on the ground he sits next to her, crossing his legs casually. “I'm Silas. Silas Bishop.” He holds out his hand for her to shake and she does, hesitant but warm. Her lack of a reaction to his name mean she isn't from New Reno, maybe not even the shambles of the NCR if she doesn't know about the Bishop family-- and if she is who he thinks she is, her mother never told her about him. Probably a good thing for now, don't want to scare her off.

She answers him with her own name: “Jules McAllister. I'm...really glad you're here.”

_ McAllister _ . A chill runs down his spine. There's no  _ way _ she's not Eliza's...but he has to make  _ sure _ . There are other McAllisters-- there are others who look like him, he's sure. “Well, Jules, it's certainly a pleasure to meet'cha.” Silas leans back on his arms. “How'd you end up here? You get stranded astral projecting?”

“No. I died.”

“...Oh. So that's what happened with the, uh…” He scratches the side of his neck and she nods, pursing her lips.

“My friend jumped me and...ripped my throat out-- she didn't want to, she got turned into a vampire and…” Jules sighs, rubbing her forehead. “It's a long story.”

“I got time.”

She thinks about it for a moment before nodding again. “There’s a lot more to it, but the condensed version is that her cousin betrayed us to Caesar's Legion and turned her into a vampire out of spite-- they're New Canaanites, they were raised as monster hunters-- and since vampires can compel those they turn...the first thing he had her do was kill me.” Her breath is shaky, her voice timid as she continues, more to herself than Silas. “She didn't want to, though...she told me herself, she didn't have a choice, and I  _ know _ she meant it. She  _ resurrected _ me, she kept me alive, she...I should have known he was behind it.”

There's a lot to digest here. Silas doesn't quite know where to start. “That's...that's heavy.”

“No  _ shit _ .”

“But, ah…” He searches for something, anything, to fill the silence. “This ain't the first time you died?” ...Maybe he should have gone with something else. But she shrugs, seemingly okay with it.

“It's technically the third.” Her nonchalant tone catches him by surprise. “The first time I was shot in the head and left in a shallow grave in a ghost town, the second time I was burned at the stake for…” She hesitates again. “For witchcraft.”

“You kiddin’ me?” Silas scoffs. “Who still  _ burns _ someone for bein’ a  _ witch? _ ” 

“You'd be surprised.” Jules starts brushing away the edges of her sigil circle. “But I didn't end up here before. I guess I was only mostly dead then...they've banished me so I can't leave again-- believe me, I've tried-- so now I'm dead for  _ good. _ ”

She doesn't want to talk about it more, that much is obvious, and Silas can't blame her. Maybe he can get more about her history, about her  _ mother _ , out of her instead. “So...where you from? Before you died.”

“Nipton. Born and raised, lived there my whole life 'til I was twenty-two-- finally got out a couple years ago.” Jules studies his face, grins ruefully at his frown. “You don't have to pretend like you know it, it was barely even a town, more like a cluster of houses people thought needed a name for some reason. The most important thing it ever did was get  _ burned _ by the Legion.” She spits off to the side. “Good riddance to that  _ shithole _ .”

In her mid-twenties...the pieces keep falling into place. But something else has caught his attention; she keeps mentioning the Legion-- “ _ Caesar's _ Legion? Those fuckers who tried to take over Hoover Dam back in ‘77? I heard about 'em but figured the NCR kicked their asses back east where they came from.”

Jules snorts. “Those fuckers  _ won _ the Dam a few months ago. News travels slow where you're from, huh?” She frowns and looks him over again, closer than last time. “Where  _ are _ you from? ...Are you dead too?”

“...New Reno,” he answers after a moment's hesitation. Honesty deserves honesty; lying will only complicate things, given how her story's Iining up.

Jules doesn't seem to connect the same dots he has, though; perhaps she's too preoccupied with her own thoughts. Her eyebrow raises and she goes back to brushing away on the sand. “Huh. My mom was from New Reno. Left before she had me. Can't imagine why she'd choose to stay in  _ Nipton _ if Reno’s as awful as she made it out to be but I guess she thought being close to California was a good idea at the time, she was really young when I was born, teens I think. Of course she'd think California would keep us safe, teenagers are _ stupid. _ Lot of good it did us in the end.”

“Reno ain't that bad.” A McAllister from New Reno, who left as a teenager some twenty-odd years ago-- to say nothing of their resemblance, a  _ family _ resemblance now-- just as he's known in the back of his mind since he saw her face-- she’s  _ Eliza's _ . She’s Eliza's and  _ his _ , there's no doubt anymore, oh  _ god _ , it all makes  _ sense _ \-- when Eliza disappeared that fall, she wasn't collateral damage in the mafia fighting like everyone thought, she was  _ pregnant _ . Pregnant with a  _ Bishop _ child, a  _ demigod's _ child. God, how  _ scared _ she would've been, they were so young, they couldn't have a  _ child _ \-- they weren't even supposed to  _ be _ together but they were fifteen and  _ invincible _ , only for that illusion to shatter with the McAllisters’ frantic searching early one September morning, their cries for Eliza ringing through the streets of New Reno. They thought she'd been kidnapped or killed-- they blamed Silas, they'd known she was fond of him just like they'd known he was a bad influence on her because of his family business. No matter how much he insisted on his innocence they never believed him, never believed he had no idea where their daughter was any more than they did. More than twenty years he spent wondering what had happened to Eliza…

...and here is what--  _ who _ \-- had happened, sitting right beside him. Jules. Jules  _ McAllister _ \-- of course Eliza wouldn't have given her his name, too dangerous if she was trying to hide her child. His child.  _ Their _ child, it's almost overwhelming just to think about, that he has another daughter,  _ has had _ one for nearly a quarter century, and he had no idea. She  _ looks _ just like him, what else did she get from him-- his temper? His ambition? His  _ powers? _

Jules is staring at him again. She's noticed him getting lost in his own thoughts, in the past. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” His voice cracks a little. “Yeah, I'm okay, it's nothin'.” He stands and tugs gently on the silver tether on his back to let Claudia know he's returning. “Listen, I gotta go-- spend too lost in astral projection you might get stranded, y’know. but-- I'm gonna figure out a way to get you outta here, okay?”

“You're leaving?!” Jules bolts to her feet, desperation replacing any resentment and resignation she had before. “No, please don't, not yet-- you're the first person I've talked to-- even  _ seen _ in  _ months _ who hasn't tried to kill me.” Pause. “ _ Killed _ me.” Her voice softens again with a little bit of a waver as she looks up at him, pleading. “Don’t leave me alone again, please...please don't…”

Silas has seen many things cross her face in his dreams, anger, grief, despair, but never once has he seen fear,  _ real _ fear, until now. She's trembling a little, tears spilling one by one from her panicked eyes, her breath coming short and shallow with her failing attempt to stay composed. Firmly, he places his hands on her shoulders-- perhaps a bit too abrupt as she sort of flinches away from him but ultimately stays put-- and locks eyes with her.

“I'm coming back for you, Jules, I swear it. Swear on my mother's grave, okay? I ain't gonna leave you behind.”

She nods slowly, red-eyed and sniffling, and he gives her a grin and a squeeze of her arms. “You can count on me, promise.” There's a tug back on his tether-- he blinks and the astral plane fades into his own house, with Claudia helping him sit up and pressing a glass of water into his hand.

“Well?” she asks. “Did you find anything out?”

Silas nods and takes a long drink of water. How's he going to tell Claudia about this…

She motions for him to explain as she starts extinguishing the candles. Best to just be straightforward, then. “She's...she’s my daughter, Claud. Mine and Eliza's. And she's dead.”


	27. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes revels in Jules being permanently gone. Definitely gone forever. Yep. Never coming back, no way.

Thank  _ god _ .

More than half a year of dealing with that  _ vile _ woman day in and day out, suffering her delusions of grandeur, killing her once only to have her reappear with his cousin of all people and putting up with her  _ again _ when he'd thought himself rid of her-- twice!-- all of that is finally over.

Vulpes breathes a sigh of relief and drops the still-burning rosemary on the floor to grind out with his boot. His eyes only drift to the crumpled body of his cousin when he notices the blood his heel has smeared over the wood. He tilts his head, her ragged, wheezing breaths bringing another smile to his face.  _ Look  _ at her-- her iron will so thoroughly bent and broken by his own, at last giving  _ him _ the advantage instead of forcing him to play sidekick. The thrill, the rush of  _ absolute _ power he has now, it never bores him to watch as she carries out every one of his commands; the pure, unmatched hatred in her eyes only adds fuel to the fire, locking them in a spiral of escalating tension. She plays this game,  _ purposefully _ ruining the banishments, using her  _ trysts  _ with Caesar to exact revenge on  _ him _ , well, he can play it too: there may be nothing Caesar can't take from him but equally so there is  _ nothing _ he can't take from Jessie. He's already proven it; he's taken her life, her will, her heritage, her  _ God _ \-- she’s nothing but a toy for him to command.

Vulpes takes a knee and bends closer to her, still prone on the floor though her bleeding neck is already healing itself. “I thought you were the  _ best _ , Jessie,” he whispers, barely audible even to their enhanced hearing under her gasps. “I thought you were capable of handling  _ anything _ any plane could throw at you-- you nearly said as much yourself at our reunion, didn't you? Though perhaps in more  _ colorful _ words.”

He tips her head to face upwards at him, meeting her eyes behind his goggles. “And yet  _ still _ you've failed me. You can't even get rid of a common  _ poltergeist? _ Jessie...I'm so  _ disappointed _ . I expected better.

“But the job is done, no particular thanks to you. I'm sure your  _ friend _ \--” he says the word with such distaste, like it's poison to even refer to the Courier this way-- “is enjoying her new eternity, blown around in a vicious storm. Or perhaps she's fighting her comrades on the surface of the Styx, or submerged in boiling blood, or  _ even _ frozen solid with Lucifer himself. Who can say-- but she’s of no consequence to us anymore.”

Jessie's eyes are focusing again, on him, and as her bones mend and crack back into place she pushes herself up, her voice eerily low and steady.

“You're a  _ coward _ , Arthur.” She spits, blood flecking his boots. “Using me as your  _ shield _ instead of fighting your own battles...but that's just what you  _ do _ , isn't it? Get your lackeys to do your dirty work for you...that you don't have the  _ gall _ to do yourself.”

“I don't have to explain myself to  _ you _ .” Vulpes stands and strides towards the door. “Get up. We have work to do.”

She doesn't follow. “When I die-- when Jules  _ kills _ me-- I'll be right there with her, haunting you until your last day on this earth. I will give up the kingdom of _ Heaven _ to make sure you burn in  _ Hell _ . You can't  _ imagine _ the long line of ghosts you'll collect...it's only a matter of time before you're your own downfall.”

“ _ If _ you die,” he corrects her, “it won't be because of the Courier; she's  _ banished _ , permanently. She won't be a nuisance to us again.”

“You've just sent her on to Paradise, Arthur. To God's  _ eternal _ love.”

Vulpes snorts. His cousin presses on.

“She knew what she did was wrong in the end...her soul was healed, God forgave her sins, she's in his hands now--”

“And has been found  _ wanting _ ,” he snaps, grinding his exit to a halt. “She deserves nothing less than eternal torment and that's what she's gotten for her crimes. She  _ never _ repented, she was  _ never _ forgiven.”

“And what do  _ you _ know of repentance and forgiveness?”

“Enough to know she received  _ none! _ ” He digs his fingernails into the heels of his palms, drawing blood from superficial wounds that heal almost as quickly as they're inflicted. “ _ If _ you die, maybe you'll see her on your way down to Cocytus yourself-- you  _ betrayed _ her, after all.” 

Vulpes starts for the door again, but pauses in the doorway, resting a hand on the frame and turning back to look at his cousin. “How did her blood taste, Jessie? Wasn't it  _ divine? _ ”

He doesn't wait for an answer.


	28. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas tells Claudia about Jules and discusses what should be done about her.

“Your  _ what? _ ” Claudia freezes, the few candles still lit reflecting in her dark eyes. “You didn't  _ tell _ me about her?”

“I didn't  _ know _ about her! Eliza didn't tell me, she just disappeared!” Silas runs a hand through his hair and starts pacing around their living room. “They hid out in Nipton, it's no wonder I never found 'em with all the nasty shit that far south, not pure eldritch like Vegas but  _ real _ dark…” He stops in front of a window where he can look out over his city's lights and takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Her name's Julia-- Jules. She takes after me but you can see her mama in her face...I did the math, she's the right age, Claud. She's my kid.”

Claudia is silent.

“Claud?”

“If she's telling the truth--”

“She's dead, why would she lie?”

“Resurrection? She might know you married into the strongest necromancers in Nevada and sees it as a way back.”

He shakes his head. “She's tellin’ the truth, trust me. I'd know if she wasn't.”

“ _ If _ she is,” Claudia continues, “that would explain your dreams. Why she looked like Eliza. Why Gloria hadn't heard of her arriving on the ethereal plane-- god blood would keep her in limbo.”

“See?” Silas turns to face her. “What part of that don't line up? She's _my_ _daughter_.”

“I'm not putting it past her to be a witch.” Claudia folds her arms, frowning. “An  _ incredibly _ powerful witch to be able to contact you like that and disguise herself as Eliza's child, but I'm not denying the possibility. Call me paranoid.”

“Claudia--”

“A witch strong enough to keep herself suspended in  _ limbo _ instead of moving on to the ethereal plane-- let  _ alone _ everything else she's doing-- could change  _ everything _ in New Reno. She could  _ destroy us _ , Silas. I'm not risking that for us-- for  _ our _ daughter.”

“And I ain't leavin’ family behind.”

Her face hardens as she closes her eyes and takes a long, deep breath through her nose. “I  _ understand _ . But if you want my help bringing her back, you need to make  _ absolutely _ sure, beyond any  _ shadow _ of a doubt, that this girl is who she says she is. I don't care what you have to do, just  _ find out _ . I am not risking  _ my _ life or any of  _ our _ family's until I  _ know _ there's no risk to us or New Reno.”

“Claudia…” Silas starts to argue, but she's set down her terms-- she has a point and they both know it. It's useless to protest. “Alright. I'll go back tomorrow and talk to her again.”

“Good.” Claudia turns to head upstairs, but pauses with her hand on the bannister. “Silas...I know this can't be easy for you to be taking in. I want you to know, I believe you...I believe  _ you _ believe she's genuine. But we've fought so hard to get where we are now, I can't risk losing it.  _ We _ can't risk it.”

“I know.”

“If she is who she's made herself out to be, she'll be welcome if she wants to stay, of course. But I want you to be  _ sure _ before we bring her back; we can't be our own demise by accidentally resurrecting someone who has it out for us.”

“I know.”

“...Alright.” She waits to see if he says anything else, but he doesn't. “I'll be upstairs.” Her heels click on the hardwood steps and Silas turns back to the window.


	29. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes assures himself that all this nonsense is uh, all going perfectly fine thank you very much, definitely under control.

Jessie hasn't said a word to him in days, not that she wasn't required to. Not that he really minds; on the contrary, it's rather pleasant to not have to listen to her delusional, self-righteous prattle. 

She thought she'd pushed him over the edge with her scheme with Caesar; while that may be true he's done his best to dig his claws in and drag her down into this pit with him. He'd snapped, certainly, but he fixes himself fast, and he's even more determined to break her in two for her insolence now. Bottle up that rage, hold it back until the time is right, then let the dam crack and burst and wash her away.

He's already taken away her friend, he's taken her one solace of religion-- the pure  _ agony _ seared on her face as she tried to pray, begging for deliverance from evil, was more satisfying than any number of captures he'd drained-- and he's taken her future, her past, everything she'd worked for since escaping the Legion when he'd turned her, but still she  _ insists _ on defying him. Small things, like letting her accent slip through, purposeful mistakes on reports...larger things like letting the Courier escape banishment time and again, whoring herself out to Caesar...but Vulpes can't let her  _ win _ . He can't let her childish  _ stubbornness _ get in the way of  _ his _ plans,  _ his _ work.

There's a myriad of ways he could still hurt her. Physically and otherwise. Pouring molten silver into open wounds is one of his favorite methods for testing new frumentarii, perhaps he should find out how well his cousin holds up under the same. And he suspects she's struck up a friendship with Caesar's doctor; he can always put a stop to that if he feels like it. But let them have it for now, let them think he doesn't know. Until then, until he decides to strike at them both, he'll content himself with having her do his dirty work.

“Listen carefully now, Jessie,” he says, “this assignment has to be carried out with the utmost precision; you're the only one of my soldiers capable of doing it correctly, understood?” It's not a lie. Loath as he is to admit it she's an excellent agent, better than the finest of his frumentarii-- perhaps better than himself.

She stares blankly at the map on his desk and shrugs.

“Here--" He jabs a finger onto a spot circled in bright red. “--sits an NCR outpost, one of the last in the Mojave. They've drawn back to Jacobstown, the fools. I’ve also caught wind a number of resistance agents are organizing there as well. So you need to wipe them out, not a soul left alive, and it needs to be done immediately.”

“You need precision to kill some scared and starving soldiers?” It's the first she's said with what remains of her own free will since the Courier's banishment. She crosses her arms and keeps her sullen eyes on the map.

Vulpes smiles, tilting his head. “Perhaps that was a poor choice of words. I need  _ you _ , specifically, to destroy them. Them and anyone else hiding out there. Much easier for  _ you  _ to get in the gates than my men.”

“I'm not wiping out a town for you, Arthur. That's more  _ your _ style, isn't it, lining roads with crosses and burning people alive.”

“ _ Yes, you will _ . I don't care  _ how _ ; if you want to perform crucifixions, please, by all means. But you'll do it. I've seen you do it before, remember? To get to Silus?” He reaches out to ruffle her hair, but like lightning her hand swats his away. Not surprising, but still enough to get a raised brow from him. “I want their heads by daybreak tomorrow. You'll leave immediately. I'm sure any lingering nightkin will prove no problem for you.”

Vulpes walks her to the elevator and presses the call button. “Make sure to tell me all about how their blood tastes. I've never had the chance to drain a nightkin before...I can't imagine it's very good with all the FEV contamination. None of the snap or flavor of something like...the Courier's, for example. Nectar and ambrosia...I only had a  _ taste _ and it was  _ exquisite _ . Wouldn't you agree, Jessie? God knows you got enough of it.”

She's about to snap back at him, he can tell, when the elevator doors open and the voice inside wipes the smirk right off his face.

“Just who I wanted to see.” The direction of Caesar's gaze makes it clear he's not talking to Vulpes.

“Ave, Lord Caesar.” Vulpes can't help the displeasure seeping into his words, but he quickly flattens his voice again. “How may I serve you?”

“Not you-- your cousin.”

He knew it, he  _ knew _ it the minute he'd looked down and seen Caesar's face revealed by the elevator doors. Damn it-- God  _ damn  _ it!

Vulpes clears his throat, thankful for the goggles hiding his glare. “I beg your pardon, my lord, but I have an urgent mission for her, it's key to--”

“It can wait.” Caesar slips an arm around Jessie's waist, a hand under her coat,  _ grabs  _ at her. “We have more important business to attend to.”

“Lord Caesar, I've already given her her assignment, I've already  _ ordered  _ her to--”

“Are you  _ denying _ me what's  _ mine _ , Vulpes?” Caesar fixes him with a steely glare. The same challenge comes across Jessie's face as she finally looks up at her cousin again, inquiring,  _ daring  _ him to step out of line.

“...No, my lord.” Vulpes swallows his pride along with the venom he wants to spit at them both. “I...would never.”

“That's what I thought.” Caesar looks him over again. “Tell her to go with me.”

“She already will, my lord, she's... _ your thrall _ as much as mine.”

“Didn't you say you already commanded her to do something for you?” He's  _ toying _ with him now, making Vulpes do this. “It  _ sounds _ like you need to give her another to overrule it. Or else she'll be forced to obey it-- and what use is she to me out of bed.”

They both stare at him for what feels like hours, a smirk threatening to crack Jessie's blank expression, until Vulpes grits his teeth and spits it out: “ _ Forget what I told you, Jessie. Follow Caesar _ .”

He sees her stiffen with the command but instead of her usual hateful glare he gets the smirk, accompanied by an all-too-enthused “Of  _ course _ , my dear  _ cousin _ . Anything for  _ Lord Caesar _ .” Caesar pulls her fully into the elevator, and just before the doors slide shut she flashes Vulpes a wink and a wicked, spiteful grin.

Vulpes stares at the closed doors long after they're gone, clenching and unclenching his fists. What kind of-- the sick thrills they got from-- they keep  _ doing  _ this to him, ensuring that he remembers how  _ powerless _ he is-- how even  _ his own thrall _ doesn't belong to him-- they get off on seeing him rage and fume, don't they--

Well, then. He'll just have to stop giving them the reaction they're looking for.

Vulpes has always been exceptional at hiding his feelings, when he has them. It's how he survived his early years as a recruit, it's how he was chosen to be a frumentarius-- complete and utter control over himself. In the rare event he lets any emotion take hold of him, it's anger, fierce and burning, but he always contains it after the initial outburst, and quickly.  _ Always _ . He is entirely unreadable; any exception is controlled and carefully planned to what will benefit him most, and he's worked tirelessly over the past twelve years to maintain this empty facade. He allows himself a well-timed smile or laugh to upset a target; he channels any anger into his work, but for the most part he feels nothing-- displays nothing-- all by choice and calculated design.

And that's what he'll have to do now, once again. He has to become numb. Nothing can affect him, not even what is  _ rightfully his _ being taken away from him. Caesar wants to take everything from him, Jessie wants her petty vengeance--  _ fine _ . Let them. He doesn't care. She can keep  _ fucking _ Caesar all she wants, but she'll hate herself even more for it when she sees how futile her revenge scheme is now. He feels  _ nothing _ about any power plays either of them try to make, not good, not bad, not anymore.

He. Feels. Nothing.


	30. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules gets a visit from Silas and some incredible news.

“Hey, Jules.”

She snaps her head up at the sound of his voice and can't hide her grin. “Silas! You came back!”

“'Course I did.” He smiles back at her. “You think I wouldn't?”

“I had...doubts.”

“Well, doubt no more. Silas Bishop  _ keeps _ his promises.”

“That's a relief.” She scoots over and looks up at him as he sits beside her. After he'd left before she'd had a hard time remembering what his face looked like-- the basics were there, but cloudy in her memory. Now that he was back she's finding that, while he's rendered with perfect clarity while she's looking directly at him, when she looks away she forgets again, no matter how hard she tries to hold onto the image of his face. Just another side effect of being dead, she thinks. Limbo has ceased to surprise her by now. “Did you find a way to...to get me out of here?”

He nods and twists the signet ring on his finger. “Yeah, just a matter of some... _ persuasion _ , is all. You ain't got a thing to worry about.”

“Persuasion?”

“Yeah, I ain't so good at raisin’ the dead myself so I gotta rope in some help. Not too hard to do, though.” He pulls a pack of cards out of his jacket pocket and offers it to her, but she shakes her head.

“You aren't gonna ask me to play Caravan, are you?”

“What the  _ fuck _ is Caravan?”

“Hell if I know.” Jules takes the cards after all and slides them out to shuffle absentmindedly. She has no intention of dealing or of playing any games. It's just nice to have something to do with her hands again. “You mind if I ask you some questions?”

“Not at all.”

“Okay.” Her voice hardens with long-stewing suspicion. “Did you just  _ happen _ to find me while you were projecting? Because that's a pretty damn big coincidence if you did.” Jules looks up and locks eyes with him-- there's something about his face but she can't concentrate on him long enough to pin it down…

Silas thinks for a minute before answering. “Kinda. I wasn't  _ expectin’  _ to find you, but...I had some weird shit happenin’ to me and figured the astral plane was as good a place to start lookin’ for answers as any.”

“What kind of weird shit?”

“Y’know, nightmares. General...unease.”

“Has it stopped?”

“Not by much.”

“Then why'd you come back?”

“I told you I would.” He holds his hand out as if asking for cards, but she ignores it. “And I think if we bring you back, that'll solve somethin’.”

“ _ Why? _ ”

“Found you almost as soon as I got here. Gotta mean somethin’, right?”

Jules gives a non-committal shrug. He's not telling her the truth. Maybe part of the truth, but not all of it. She has to dig deeper. “So you just find some random dead woman and decide resurrecting her is gonna solve your problem?”

Silas hesitates again. “It's complicated, Jules.”

“I have time.”

“I was…” He chews over his words, thinking carefully about how to phrase what he says next. “Those dreams I mentioned. I was here in this desert, and so were you, with that gash in your neck and leavin’ a trail of blood. I tried to say somethin’ to you but you could never hear me. Left me feelin’ real sick, even when I woke up.”

Jules freezes, cards falling from her hands. Is this the other presence she felt? The one that had pulled her back from the Lucky 38? “Did you...did you ever try to grab my shoulder or anything?”

“Yeah. Once, but it didn't work, you could see me or hear me or anythin'.”

“No, it did  _ something. _ ” She picks the cards up and starts shuffling again. “I used to haunt a casino on the New Vegas Strip. It's where two of the three people who killed me are. The first time I went something brought me back here and I could  _ tell _ , someone else was here...I think that was  _ you _ .”

They fall silent. Jules keeps shuffling.

“You should've just mentioned that first,” she says, finally.

“What, that I was havin’ dreams about you?” Silas scoffs, but it's not malicious. “Little weird to be an introduction, don't you think?”

Jules shrugs. “I understand what prophetic dreams are, Silas. 'Weird’ doesn't really have much meaning when you're dead, either...besides, ‘I’ve had recurring prophetic dreams about you that are making me sick so I think I have to resurrect you to make it stop’ is pretty low on the list of creepy things that have been said to me.”

That gets a little chuckle from him. “I guess that's fair.”

“So…” She stacks the cards up before spreading them out in front of her, trying to think of something else to ask him. “What's it like in New Reno?”

Silas takes part of the spread-out deck and starts shuffling his own cards. “It ain't as bad as people make it out to be. 'Course my family's done pretty well for themselves, so.”

“Your family? What are they like?”

He laughs again. “How much you wanna know?”

“As much as you'll tell me.” Jules isn't expecting his life story, after all she hasn't given him hers, but she's curious, curious to learn about him and to find out how detailed he's willing to get.

“Let's see.” He lays down two of his cards: the king and queen of clubs. “My parents-- John and Leslie Anne-- ran our family business til they died a while back-- nobody ever acknowledged it but everyone knew I wasn't my pop’s kid.” He lays another card next to the queen: a joker. “Exactly whose I was, she ain't sayin’ in life or in death, always insisted I was some kinda miracle from God...she wasn't all wrong.” He smirks.

Jules nods. He's giving her more detail than she thought, that's good...but she could still do with learning more. Luckily, it seems Silas is in no mood to stop.

Below the king and queen he flips over a fourth card: the queen of hearts. “When they were killed my sister Angela took over the family as I was...preoccupied farther west. Didn't come back to Reno til I was almost eighteen but boy, was she glad to see me. She  _ hated _ being the boss.” 

Another card goes down, this one the king of spades below the queen of clubs and the joker. “So now we got me--” The queen of spades flips over next to the king. “My wife Claudia--” The jack of spades below them. “Her boy Oliver--” Finally the ace of spades, next to the jack. “And our daughter Evangeline. I'm runnin’ the business now and have been ever since I got back in town and we're doin’ real well.  _ Real _ well.” He looks up at her as he sweeps the cards back into a pile. “So what about you? What's your family situation?”

Jules straightens up and clears her throat. “Well, uh, I don't have anything as...impressive as that card trick--”

“Simple transmutation, anyone can do it.”

“But, uh...it was just me and my mom-- just us two in Nipton. She mentioned having family back in New Reno but we never saw them. I know my middle name is my aunt's name but that's about it.”

Silas pauses his shuffling for a minute but quickly resumes. “What about your dad?”

“Hell if I know. I never met him, Mom just said he was back in New Reno and he was dangerous so it was better we didn't have contact with him.”

“That ain't fair.” Silas frowns. “New Reno's  _ fine _ , I'm tellin’ ya.” He looks up at her, concern still written on his face. “You're tellin’ me the truth, right, Julesy?  _...I need you to tell me the truth. _ ”

“Yeah, of course I am, why would I--” 

_ Wait _ . 

The echo in his last sentence, the way it bounces around in her skull, it's familiar...the reverb she recognizes but the effect it has on her, fleeting as it is, is new, but she knows it, she’s seen it before, she knows…

_ Vulpes. _

Jules bolts to her feet, new fear flooding her system, panic coursing through her veins. “Did you just try to  _ compel _ me?! What the  _ fuck?! _ ” How  _ dare _ he?! He wants her to trust him and yet he's just trying to  _ manipulate _ her like everyone else?!

“Jules, it ain’t like that, just hear me out--” Silas takes a few steps towards her but she darts away.

“No! Are you a  _ vampire _ or something?! What the fuck do you  _ want?! _ ” The cards she still holds in her shaking hands begin to glow and crackle with electricity, the magic she's using spontaneous and uncommanded. “Did  _ Vulpes _ send you?! Tell him to leave me the  _ fuck _ alone-- he's already  _ banished _ me, what more can he  _ do _ to me?!”

“Vulpes? Who's--” He shakes his head; never mind that. “Jules, just listen to me, honey, I didn't mean to--”

“ _ No!! _ ” Electricity arcs from the cards up and down her forearm as anguish chokes her voice. “Why would you  _ do _ that?! I'm  _ dead, _ Silas, why would I  _ lie _ to you?!” She jerks backward, further away from him with each step. “You can go back to  _ Vegas _ and tell Vulpes that since God knows no one  _ else _ will do it he can  _ go fuck himself  _ for tormenting me  _ dead _ when he's already done it  _ more _ than enough while I was alive!!”

“Jules, I'm not-- I'm sorry, Jules, I didn't mean to scare you--”

“You didn't mean to get  _ caught!! _ ” The crackling is non-stop now, popping and snapping with almost tangible force, the light illuminating tears spilling from her eyes.

Silas throws his empty hands up and out towards her but doesn't move closer himself. “Jules,  _ listen _ to me, I promise I--”

“Just  _ stop!!  _ All of you fucking frumentarii, just leave me _ alone!! _ ”

“I'm not with this Vulpes fella, I'm not a frumentarii, I swear--”

“ _ BULLSHIT!!  _ Why should I believe you?!”

“I'm your  _ DAD _ , Jules!”

She freezes in her tracks, electricity still spiking in her hand, reflecting off her wet face and trembling eyes. “... _ What? _ ” He has to be lying. A cheap ploy to throw her off guard and attack her,  _ destroy  _ what's left of her. Vulpes wasn't content to banish her for good so he sent a frumentarius after her, it  _ has _ to be why he's here.

Silas takes a deep breath, then another, then another. “Your mama, Eliza, she was my girl, a long time ago, 'bout twenty-five years. She's youngest of three, got two siblings-- your uncle’s name is Nick and your aunt’s name-- you said it was your middle name too-- is Catherine. They live on a farm outside’a town, raise brahmin. Good,  _ honest _ people.” 

Jules’ eyes widen-- he knows their names. She hasn't mentioned them, not even her mother's, but he  _ knows _ them. He knows the people she's only heard about in brief snippets here and there, he's  _ met _ them...he knew her  _ mother _ .

“Eliza disappeared when we were fifteen. Everyone thought it was because’a me but I went out lookin’ for her myself, frantic as anyone. But I never found her-- she was in Nipton,  _ you _ were in Nipton... there's  _ dark _ magic down there, Jules, but she took you there and used it to hide you and it  _ worked _ .” Silas’ own voice is wavering now but he keeps eye contact with her. “That's why you kept showin’ up in my dreams-- that's why tryin’ to compel you didn't work, that's why you're  _ here  _ instead of movin’ on after you died, probably why those first two deaths a'yours didn't take...you're  _ my blood _ .”

The cards fall from her hand, fizzling out on the ground. Jules only realizes what she's been doing when the tingling in her arm stops. She goes rigid, every word he says a shock to her system. “What...what do you  _ mean? _ Why would you being my  _ father _ mean any of that?”

“She didn't tell you.” Silas cracks a small smile. “Of course she didn't tell you. Would’a been  _ dangerous _ .”

“Yeah, my mother didn't tell me  _ anything _ about you. Except that we shouldn't have _ contact _ with you.” Her eyes narrow. “Explain.”

He nods, shuffling a few cautious steps towards her. “You're powerful enough that you got stuck here on the astral plane instead’a goin’ on to the ethereal like most dead folks do. You can't be charmed-- at least not by me and I'd bet not by vampires either since you gotta be somethin’  _ real _ strong to break mine.”

“And what makes  _ you _ so special?”

Silas breaks into a full-on grin. “I'm a demigod, sweetheart. You got  _ god _ blood in you.”


	31. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas has a family talk and finally takes some action to help Jules.

“She can't be  _ charmed?  _ That's what your proof is?” Claudia can't hide her displeasure. “You don't have  _ anything _ else.  _ Anything _ better.”

“You're not gettin’ it, Claud.” Silas paces back and forth across their bedroom. “I'm half  _ god, _ to be able to counter my charm you'd have to be practically divine yourself.” He runs a hand through his hair. “She looks just like me, she's the right age to be mine and Eliza's, she has powers like mine, everything she's told me lines up, Claudia, she's my  _ daughter. _ I have to do  _ something _ .”

“And what if she's lying?”

“What if she's  _ NOT?! _ ” He stops in his tracks and spins towards her, frustration and pleading both in his eyes. “I can't just leave her there dead...she ain't even in the afterlife proper. She's just stuck in limbo. I can't let family languish like that, it ain't no way to exist.”

He doesn't say Jules is his last connection to Eliza, that he  _ needs _ that kind of closure to their relationship. He doesn't say how much he still wants to find her, apologize for not doing more, for not being there for her and their child, and that Jules can help him accomplish that. He doesn't say that maybe Jules won't be indifferent or outright hostile to him like Evie and Oliver, that maybe with a little experience she could be more suited to leading the Bishops than either of them. 

He doesn't say any of this aloud, but Claudia studies his face in silence and reads enough of it to suit her. She sighs and glides down the hall to their daughter's room. 

“Evie?” She knocks softly on the door. “Do you have a moment? I need your help with something.”

“Yeah, just gimme a second.”

“Alright.” Claudia returns and breezes past Silas without a second glance to her shelves of candles and components for her spells.

“Thank you, Claud.” Silas watches from a distance as she gathers what supplies she needs, one hand scratching the back of his neck. “You don't know how much this means to me.”

“Mmm.” Arms full, she nudges the door to their bathroom open with her foot. Silas follows her in.

“I know you ain't exactly thrilled about any of this, and I know you don't trust her, but we're doin’ the right thing, I really believe it.”

Claudia turns from painting sigils in the tub and jabs her finger into his chest, voice low and words deliberately chosen. “If you're wrong, if she so much as makes a  _ threat _ of a threat against our family, I will kill her myself. I'm not going to watch my mother, my husband, my  _ children _ die because some power-hungry witch decided she wanted a piece of New Reno. Until I  _ know _ she's trustworthy, she's not going out of my or your  _ sight. _ Understood?”

“What more proof do you  _ want? _ ”

“I’ll feel a lot better when I see if she actually  _ does _ look like you, for starters. Perception is different on the astral plane, you  _ know _ this, she could look like almost anyone there if she's strong enough to keep herself from moving on. Hell, I'll feel better if we can  _ bring _ her back; for all we know she's just projecting like you are.”

“Claudia--”

“ _ Silas. _ ” She goes back to finish the sigils. “I watched my mother claw her way to where we are now and fight tooth and nail to keep it-- we're in a  _ good _ place in New Reno. You married  _ up _ , Silas.”

A short, quiet laugh slips from his mouth. She's right; the Bishops had been low in New Reno's pecking order back then, but times change and soon it was Silas’ family giving the Van Graffs a leg up. And here they are, both on top of the world now.

Claudia continues. “I'm not going to just let this be taken away from me. My mother didn't raise us to be fools.”

“I'm not sayin’ you're a fool--”

“But to not be cautious would be a foolish decision.” She takes a step back and examines her work. “If this girl can be trusted, then you're right and I'm paranoid. But even if she's harmless I don't want her to have the opportunity to prove otherwise.”

A knock on the door behind them. “What'd you need me for, Mom?”

Evie stands in the doorway, her tight curls hanging loose around her face. She spots the sigils surrounding the tub and raises an eyebrow in mild alarm. “Who died?”

Claudia sets her ink and brush aside and begins lighting candles and incense around the room. “Your father's other daughter, it seems.”

“Your  _ what? _ ” Evie turns her shock towards Silas, who folds his arms and shifts somewhat awkwardly.

“An old girlfriend-- she disappeared a long time ago, never told me about Jules.”

“That’s her name? Jules?” Evie's voice carries equal parts suspicion and curiosity. “How'd she die? Where's her body-- you can't resurrect her without her body.”

“Mauled by a vampire,” Silas answers, “and I dunno. We don't have it.”

“But you're gonna try to resurrect her.”

“Yeah.”

“ _ Without _ her body.”

“Listen, Evie, we don't--” 

“Dad, that's like, the  _ basics _ of necromancy. You wanna raise the dead, you have to have something  _ to raise _ .”

“Evie--”

“It's not gonna work, you're just gonna get a ghost in the house. I'm not even saying this to talk you out of it or anything, it's just a fact.”

“ _ Evangeline. _ ” Silas frowns at her. He should have expected an argument from her, too, but he still didn't need it right now. She bites her tongue and holds back whatever she was going to say next, but doesn't look any more pleased than she did.

“It  _ is  _ possible, Evie,” Claudia says as she fills the tub with hot water. “It's just...difficult. Which is why I asked for your help. The more hands involved on this, the better.”

“... _ Oh. _ ” The compliment gets to her and she cracks a small smile. “Let me go get my spellbooks, I'll see what I can find.” She runs to her room and returns a few minutes later, hair pulled back and a slim leatherbound book in her hands.

“I think I know what to do. We need holy water, some graveyard dirt, wine, diamond dust…” Evie looks up at her father, brow furrowed. “Since we don't have her body we need blood from her next of kin. But that's last.”

Silas nods.

“There's no telling if it'll work right, though. I'm  _ good _ , like, I'm probably the best necromancer in the  _ family _ , but…”

“We have to try. She's part of the family too, Evie.”

“She's also on the astral plane instead of the ethereal,” Claudia adds, sprinkling the components into the tub before swirling it all together with her hand. “It'll probably be easier to pull her back from there.”

Evie looks up from her book, baffled. “Why's she on the  _ astral _ plane? Is it--” She snaps her fingers at the realization. “God blood, right? Because of you, Dad?”

“That's what I think.” He joins his wife and daughter beside the tub and holds out his right hand for Evie. She takes it in hers and, with an almost-new silver knife, makes a long cut diagonally across his palm. Droplets of blood fall from the wound into the tub, blooming first bright red as they diffuse, then rapidly darkening the water to an impossible black, diamond dust glittering like stars in the void.

Silas and Claudia step back at Evie's motion as she kneels and looks at them over her shoulder. “Don't bandage it yet, Dad. Still need one more thing.” She turns back and closes her eyes, spreading her arms with her palms up. A deep, somewhat shaky breath, inhaling smoke from the incense, and she begins, channelling her nerves into confidence:

“Ego appellatio non ad deos, sed ad Mortem ipsius. Ego appellatio pro patre meo et pro eius perditum, cuius vita abscissus denique ab his, qui falso putavit eius indignum.”

Silas shoots Claudia a look--  _ what is she doing? _ Evie isn't using the typical ritual; she's gone off on her own. Claudia shakes her head--  _ let her work _ \-- but keeps a close eye on their daughter. Just in case.

“Accumsan haec anima, repraesentatur hic per sua patris sanguinem, gratis datum, ad mortale regnum ab eo quod iacet inter vitam et quid sequitur.” Evie pauses, and her voice takes on a more subservient tone. “Accumsan ea bene et totum illa, ut perficiam, quod coepit, usque ad te, Domina Mortem, possunt concordes, quod homicidium in frigore sanguis est, non convenit finem, quia a viro, et certe non in manibus, unum in neque nostri regni, nec non tua.” 

She pauses again. Almost like she's having a conversation, waiting to hear what the other side has to say. “In cambitas…? In cambitas, offero portionem meam familiae opes, thus et vinum ad mensam, in spem habes placitum.”

Another silence. Evie keeps her voice level when she answers, but her hands are starting to shake. “Pater meus est media  _ deus _ ; haec anima, et ipse utriusque partis eius sanguinem. Quod non sit heros aegroto in suspendit.”

Her shoulders tense, and Silas and Claudia both are ready to jump and pull her out of this trance when she relaxes, and all three allow themselves a sigh of relief. “Gratias tibi, gratias ago tibi, domina mea! Tua liberalitas, non erit in oblivione.”

Evie sits back, resting on her hands. She opens her eyes and turns to face her parents with a nod. “It should work. Not the most ideal method but it'll work.” She motions for her father to come forward and takes his still-bleeding hand.

“What'd you do, Evie?” he asks. “Haven't heard that one before.”

“I bypassed the  _ gods _ of death and went straight to...well,  _ Death _ .” She shrugs. “The bigger the task, the higher up you should appeal, right?”

“Jesus  _ Christ _ , Evie. You know how risky that is?

She shrugs again. “She liked my nerve.” The knife slices across Silas’ palm again, in the opposite direction this time to form an X. “The water’s supposed to go straight to where Jules is. Just reach in.”

Silas looks to her, then to Claudia; both nod and give him the go-ahead. He rolls up his sleeve, kneels by the tub, and submerges his bloody hand into the blackness.


	32. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes has a pleasant dream.

“Artie!”

He pulls the blanket further over his head and snuggles deeper into the mattress.

“Artie, get up!” The voice’s owner nudges him again. “It's Easter!”

He rolls over sleepily and peeks out into the morning. Standing above him is Jessie-- that’s right, she'd slept over the night before-- in her Sunday best, her brown hair pulled back in two braids as neat as Priscilla could manage, her face split by a gap-toothed grin. 

“It's Easter!” she says again, throwing his blanket off him and practically dragging him out of bed. “C'mon, Grandpa's waiting for us!!” She runs out of the room, giggling with excitement.

Vulpes rolls out of bed, still a little bleary-eyed. Wait... _ Vulpes? _ Why is he thinking of himself as Vulpes?  _ Woohl _ -pehz. He doesn't even know what that means. His mother would probably know, he should ask her.

Arthur finds the church clothes he'd set out the night before and gets himself dressed, meticulously going over his shirt and slacks to make sure every button is straight, everything neat and perfect. When it is, he makes his way out to join his siblings and cousins in front of the house for the annual family photo, nudging his way to the front to stand next to Jessie, who gives him the biggest hug she can.

When the film is developed it'll be the same as every year, their parents and grandparents in the back holding their youngest siblings, the older ones in the middle, and the two of them in front, Arthur smiling shyly and Jessie grinning broad enough for the two of them, one arm around his narrow shoulders, the other hand proudly on her hip. Trees blooming in the background, his mother in her favorite, wide-brimmed hat, sometimes you could see the family brahmin grazing near the house. Always the same: peaceful, happy, ideal.

Grandpa Arthur-- little Artie's namesake-- scoops him off the ground, laughing, and carries him on his shoulders for the short walk to church. Nothing's far in Marysvale. The family files into the little white church, greeted with more hugs and well-wishes from their friends and neighbors and  _ guests _ , guests Arthur only gets a glimpse of before service starts, but he recognizes them from somewhere, maybe he's seen them around town when he and Jessie play after school.

He has to confess, he doesn't remember much of the morning’s service; he and Jessie are too busy whispering and giggling to each other, even as her sister Annie admonishes them. There are prayers, prayers of thanks for God’s love, the spring, for their health, for their little community, safe in the mountains of southern Utah; prayers for forgiveness and protection, prayers to bless and keep the brothers and sisters abroad on their missions. There's a sermon, about the Resurrection, and he doesn't remember that either. But he does remember what comes after. 

Marysvale's annual Easter potluck is the stuff of legends. Tables outside the church full of casseroles, fruits and vegetables, freshly baked bread, jellies, jams, meats both hunted and raised and cooked in all manner of ways, cakes and cookies, lemonade and tea, everything a nine-year-old such as himself could want. His own mother had brought a pie, pulled from the oven just before they left that morning. In a surprising show of initiative Arthur practically shoves another boy out of the way to get a slice before it’s gone-- the boy shoves him back and knocks him down, but Jessie steps in, stepping over him to place herself between the two and dating the other boy to pick on someone his own size, namely,  _ her _ , if he's not too  _ chicken _ .

He is.

As Arthur and Jessie share the last piece of pie, he watches the other churchgoers, quietly observing as always. Mrs. Carraway seems ill again. Judy Flowers and Gary Mays are throwing shy glances and smiling at each other a lot; their parents better not catch them or else they'll be in  _ trouble  _ unless they have permission to be seeing each other first. Mr. Smith is in a heated conversation with Bishop Shackleford; are they-- no, they're laughing now, looks like it was all in good fun.

A man Arthur doesn't recognize catches his eye and nods at him, smiles without showing his teeth-- and then Arthur  _ does _ recognize him. From where, though? He doesn't live in Marysvale, so he's one of the guests, but Arthur  _ knows _ him, he knows he does. That shock of white hair is unmistakable, especially on such a young man. Bishop Shackleford approaches the man now, shaking his hand warmly, and Arthur thinks he catches a name,  _ Donovan Fox _ . The rest of their conversation is unintelligible, but an uneasy feeling sits in Arthur's stomach as the bishop thanks Mr. Fox for visiting and for introducing his wonderful friends to the congregation, please do take as much food as you like, there's plenty to go 'round.

And Arthur starts noticing more strangely familiar faces in the crowd, a middle-aged man with a military beret, a young man, barely out of his teens, carrying a package of food he's tied up, a pair of men, one pale and blonde like many in Marysvale, the other slightly darker, who keep looking at him with undeserved contempt. The most striking of these strangers, a tall, dark man with scars across his bare shoulders and black dreadlocks in intricate knots, stands at a distance, simply observing the festivities.

He is the only one in the sunlight.

Arthur squeezes his cousin's hand. “Jessie. Somethin’s wrong. The visitors Bishop was talkin’ to...somethin’s weird about 'em.”

“What are you talkin’ about, Artie?” Jessie puts a hand over her eyes to block out the sun and peers at the crowd. “I don't see nothin’ wrong. We're jus’ sharin’ the blessings the Good Lord gave us, wouldn't be Christian t’not to.”

He shakes his head. “It don't feel right. Somethin’ is wrong,  _ real _ wrong.”

“Are you okay?” Jessie frowns and presses her hand to his forehead to check his temperature as she's seen both their mothers do when they're sick. “Maybe we should get Aunt Theresa.”

“No, Jessie, I…” Arthur stands, fixated on the strangers now gathering at the edge of the field, still in the shadow of the church. “I gotta go find out.” He starts off towards them, Jessie close behind, insisting that well, if he's gonna go get himself in a mess a’ trouble, she better come along to get him out of it.

He stops a few yards away, under a dogwood tree, close enough to hear them whispering but not close enough to understand the words. One of them, the one with the dreadlocks, seems to hear him approach as he tilts his head and turns ever so slightly backwards at Arthur’s footsteps, but if the others notice they don’t let on. They keep discussing; Arthur ducks behind the tree with Jessie while she keeps watch for their parents.

Suddenly the one with the package turns around to face him-- the white haired man is gone-- the other strangers all look at him too-- and the one in the beret says, “So what’s our plan, Mr. Fox? Shall we proceed?”

Arthur finds himself answering but his voice is not his own, it’s a serpent’s, flat and  _ void _ of everything. “Yes,” he says, “we act tomorrow. Send a message to the Legate. We are to leave nothing standing, everyone led to the slaughter or led away in chains.”

He claps his hands over his mouth, horrified at his words that  _ aren’t  _ his, but the strangers just nod, one or two cracking a fanged smile.

“As you command, sir,” the one in the beret says, and leads the others away. The dreadlocked one goes last, lingering and studying him intently with deep, dark eyes before leaving.

Arthur turns back to talk to Jessie, shaken-- but when he turns Marysvale is burning behind him, his neighbors screaming and wailing, blood staining the grass and the dirt and the buildings that weren’t already ablaze. He’s trembling, he can’t breathe for the smoke and the petrifying fear, what’s going on,  _ what’s _ going--

“Arthur!!”

It’s Jessie’s voice, her shriek piercing through the cacophony to his ears.

“ _ ARTHUR!! _ ”

He turns again and spots her, being dragged away by an armored man with other children from the town-- mostly girls-- she’s craning her neck, struggling to get away, struggling to find someone, but she doesn’t see him there standing by the tree...because he’s across the street, chained to a line of Marysvale’s boys, too frozen even for tears let alone to scream for help. Arthur watches himself as he’s yanked along, away from his home, from the last of his family, Jessie’s screams ringing in his ears even after she’s slapped silent by the armored man.

By the legionary.

Arthur blinks and the fires of Marysvale fade into different fires, more bloodstained ground, more weeping civilians, but this time’s different. He feels calm. In control. The palpable anguish, the streets lined with crosses, the intricate plan he laid and sprang-- that he just  _ knows _ he’s responsible for-- he’s  _ enjoying _ it.

The man kneeling before him is crying, silently but decidedly ugly, not that  _ not _ crying would have changed that. “Well then, Mayor Steyn,” he hears himself say in that same flat, snakelike voice, “your people know of your sins now. Of your pride, your avarice, your lust...have you nothing to say for yourself?”

“You’ve got it all wrong, man, that’s not what it’s like-- we’re friends, aren’t we, Fox?” Steyn’s blabbering brings a sneer to Arthur’s face.

“ _ Friends _ . If that’s what you want to believe.” Arthur watches himself throw a book onto a pile of burning tires. “Then, as your  _ friend, _ I’m doing you a special favor. You get to die first.” He sees himself nod and the legionaries holding the mayor lift him and throw him onto the fire. The stench of burning flesh sears Arthur’s nose as Steyn’s shrieks pierce his ears, but he only smiles and watches the smoke rise higher.

Apparently he watches too long. “Sir.” One of his men directs his attention back to the captive crowd.

“Ah, yes. Let’s begin, shall we?” His smile widens and he nods to one of his soldiers. “Bring them forward. And bring me the tickets, will you.”

“Yes sir,  _ Vulpes Inculta. _ ”

He blinks and opens his eyes to the crimson interior of a Legion tent. A dream. Of course it was a dream; he’s had it before. Marysvale often, just after he started training, and during the transformation when he’d become a frumentarius and the previous Vulpes Inculta had turned him, of course. Nipton...never. But it isn’t unthinkable it would appear in his dreams, with how much time he’d dedicated to that mission.

There’s no daylight seeping in under the tent flap. Vulpes pushes it aside and steps out into the cool night air, and he can smell  _ everything _ . He can hear  _ everything _ . He can see for miles, even with the pitch black of a new moon overhead; he is a frumentarius of  _ unmatched _ skill and talent and his abilities as a vampire reflect that.

And yet. Jessie may very well be better.

She’d come back from Jacobstown drenched in blood, carrying the NCR commander’s head. No survivors, she said, they were all gone, soldiers and civilians alike. Also, nightkin blood was chemically, slightly rancid with a bit of spice.

Vulpes knows he never could have pulled off that slaughter alone. He’s smart, he’s cunning, but he’s not strong and he’s not a hunter. Jessie, though,  _ Jessie _ is all of those.

He’s going to have to watch her.


	33. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex has another social visit with the Good Doctor, this one more pleasant than the last.

_ The drums, the drums, the drums-- _

“--so the whole time, the reason why we couldn’t share beds at sleepovers when we were kids wasn’t any Mormon gendered hangups, but because he  _ wet the bed _ up until the Legion  _ beat _ the habit out of him.”

“No!!! No way!!!”

“It’s true.”

“Hah!!”

Arcade slapped his knee, dissolving into some repressed giggles, looking away and shaking his head, grinning at whatever image he was conjuring in his mind. 

\-- _ the drums, the drums-- _

“Can you imagine if he still pissed himself at night? I mean, if uh, vampires  _ do-- _ ”

“We do.”

“Oh. Huh. Guess that question’s answered. Always kind of wondered about that. But seriously Jess, he totes you around all the time, not  _ once _ have you seen the sheets a  _ little _ damp? Please tell me you have.”

\-- _ drums, drums, drums _ \--

Lex blinked a few times, staring at Arcade and his flush,  _ warm _ , pink face.

“Jess?”

“--Oh, uh, hate to disappoint, but I haven’t.  _ YET. _ I’ll keep my eyes peeled, Arcade. Trust me, you’d be the first person to know about something  _ that _ pathetic.”

She flashed him a quick, fanged smile.

_ -drums drums drums drums DRUMS-- _

The smile dropped from her face as her expression blanked, stony and focused.

_ \--drumsdrumsdrumsdrumsdrumsdrumsdrumsjessareyouevelistentingdrumsdrumsdrumsseriouslyearthtolexingtondrumsdrumsdrumsLEXINGTON _

“Lexington!”

Lex snapped back to the moment, looking over at Arcade.

“...Yes?”

Arcade frowned, tilting his head a little as he spoke.

“That’s the third time you’ve zoned out since you got here. What’s bothering you? Beyond, you know, the usual Hell.”

Lex sighed loudly, leaning back into her chair, massaging her temples with one loose hand. 

“I’m sorry Arcade. I don’t mean it. It’s just… I think I figured out why my cousin hasn’t banned me from talking to you yet.”

“Oh? You know I’d complain to Caesar if he ever did.”

“I do, and I appreciate that, Arcade, but…”

Lex’s face twisted a little under her fingers--the pounding was SO LOUD………

“I’m pretty sure my cousin wants me to  _ kill you _ .”

Arcade sat back in his seat, knitting his hands together in his lap like he  _ always _ did when he was nervous, Lex had noticed. She didn’t want to have to admit this to him because she  _ knew _ it’d make him uncomfortable, but no way around it now. 

“...What?” Arcade asked back, hesitantly.

“Yeah,” Lex started, sighing again, “he’s been intentionally  _ underfeeding _ me. Think about it. He bans me from talking to you, Caesar would give him lip when you complain. But he can’t just  _ kill _ you because Caesar would have his fuckin’ head. But if  _ I _ killed you? Not by  _ his _ command but by  _ accident? _ ”

Arcade fidgeted with his fingers clasped against each other, the conclusion having reached him.

“He wants you to lose control. Maul me like a lion mauls a Christian in the colosseum. Is that it?”

“Bingo. But--”

Lex lowered her hand, making eye contact again with Arcade, seeing him flinch  _ ever _ so slightly at her quick movement--

“You have  _ nothing _ to fear from me, Arcade. Like I’d let that  _ little piss _ get the best of me. If it  _ pisses _ him off, you know I’m  _ never _ gonna hurt you,  _ especially _ not for any of his  _ pissant _ reasons.”

She saw Arcade loosen a little, tension in his posture slacking as he grinned.

“I see what you did there.”

“Wouldn’t let you beat me to the puns.”

“You got me there.”

Lex grinned back, through the deafening echoing of Arcade’s heartbeat. A constant drumbeat. Mocking her. An endless two-note fugue. Lex supposed a lesser vampire would’ve succumbed by now after having fantasized about sinking their sharp teeth into his pale, supple neck--but if she prided herself on one thing, it was just how motivating  _ sheer spite _ was. The blood coursing through his veins was a  _ distraction _ \--nothing more. She wouldn’t obsess over it, let her lust consume her.  _ Never _ . 

“Yep. But point bein’,  _ fuck Arthur _ . An’ you know if that’s my motivation, I got high chances of success.” 

And yet. AND YET….. THE DRUMS……

THEDRUMSTHEDRUMSTHEDRUMSTHEDURJMSTHRDRUMSTHEREFRUMDSDRUSMS--

Lex winced and sturdied herself again, channeling her focus back towards Arcade. The PERSON Arcade. The FRIEND Arcade. NOT his blood… not a  _ meal _ … 

“I believe you, Jess. Still sucks, though. Sucks… not to suck….. blood….” Arcade trailed off, twiddling his fingers again.

“That was  _ almost _ a pun, Arcade.”

“Well you know, I can’t be on point all the time. I try and--WAIT.  _ Point. _ ”

Arcade jumped up from his seat, overtaken by whatever idea had possessed him.

“Wait here, Jess. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lex watched as he ran off out of the little common area and into the kitchen, out of her sight. She heard him opening a few cabinets, heard the clinking of some items, him fiddling with something, and-- _ the smell, BLOOD-- _

“ARCADE!” Lex shouted, about to bolt up from her seat, tensed and ready to launch herself forward to--to… 

She froze, not knowing  _ to what _ she was about to go and do, opting instead to keep herself deep in the chair, her grip so strong on its arms that her fingernails were making notches in the wood. 

Almost as soon as she shouted, Arcade shouted back from the kitchen--

“DON’T YOU MOVE!! Hold your horses!!! I’m almost done, sheesh!”

She obeyed, steeling herself in her seat, trying to force her entire consciousness to focus ONLY on the rug at her feet--the tacky, faded red, the musty smell--anything to occupy her--

Soon enough, Arcade whirled around from inside the kitchen, smiling, a small towel draped over his arm, currently holding a tray with two full wine glasses--one fizzing, the other… deep red. He waltzed over with manufactured pomp, making a large, gracious movement to lower the tray towards Lex.

“Voila, drinks for two, madame.”

The tray hovered in front of her as she tried to process what was before her. 

“Well, go on! Tout-de-suite!” Arcade said, motioning the tray towards her again.

With as delicate a touch as she could muster, Lex reached for the fizzing glass, grasping it--

“Oh my God! Lex.  _ Lex _ .”

She smirked up at him, giggling a little. 

“I dunno, Arcade, a lil’ carbonation would really hit the spot right now.”

“Please, for the love of--I’m trying to do something nice for you for  _ once!! _ Just take the damn glass of blood already.”

Another soft laugh and she took the glass filled with his blood. She held it, staring into its alluring crimson…

“Arcade… I… I’m very thankful for this, but… you don’t… you don’t have to  _ bleed _ yourself for me like this, I just…”

“Hey, Jess, don’t stress it,” Arcade said, taking his glass of sarsaparilla and setting the dish down on the coffee table by the chairs, then sitting back down in his own chair, “listen, I’m a doctor, not a brahmin, don’t think of this as feeding off me, think of it as me doing you a  _ favor _ . Again, I’m a doctor. I know how to draw blood, and I have the tools. That’s what uh, the ‘point’ thing reminded me of. Because, needles. They’re pointy. Besides, that whole ‘ _ fuck Arthur’ _ thing? You know I’m also on board with doing just about anything to  _ piss _ him off.”

Lex held her glass, moving her wrist just enough to give the blood inside the faintest swirl as she watched it flow  _ luxuriously _ . Softly, she spoke,

“...Thank you, Arcade…”

There were so many other things Lex wanted to tell him, but the words couldn’t form, just roiling inside her instead, unformed sentences, laments, thanks, regret, relief, and… mourning. But still… below it all…. She felt gratitude. In the end that was something warm and  _ right _ she could grasp on to.  

“Glad I can help. Now drink up, doctor’s orders. Cheers!”

They raised their glasses, clinking them together, and brought their own to their lips. 

With more fervor than she intended, Lex drained her glass, gulping it down, breathless, desperate. Finally…

Finally the drums got a little quieter. 


	34. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules has been dead for like 30 chapters and 35,000 words and it's time for that to change.

Silas hasn't come back yet. It's getting worrisome.

Jules is still reeling from everything he told her and she's not even sure if she believes it; it's a tough pill to swallow. That he's her  _ father, _ that he's  _ divine _ and by extension so is  _ she, _ that it took her death for them to find out about each other, it barely seems plausible, and yet...it makes sense. She's always been a powerful witch, because she's part god. She's so hard to kill, because she's part god. She can't be charmed, she's not in the afterlife proper, she can... _ could _ go back and forth between this plane and the mortal one,  _ because she's part god. _

So what else can she do?

The answer is “not much,” not while she's stuck here. She's managed some flashy spells since her banishment, ones she figures would do good damage if she had someone to fight, but she can't do much more. Besides, what's the point if she has nothing to launch them at? If Silas comes back maybe he could teach her more spells, how to harness her divine power. If he comes back. If he's telling the truth.

Jules knits a little criss-cross of electric bolts between her fingers. She hasn't  _ had _ a teacher, now that she's thinking about it. Her mother didn’t have any magic, never did; she'd actually tried to  _ keep _ Jules from using hers as much as possible. Said with deadly seriousness that there were witch hunters who'd hurt or kill her if they found out what she could do. Eliza was kind and sweet and gentle but she'd never minced her words when it came to the danger her daughter was in. From who? She'd never specified beyond a generic “witch hunters,” but it had been enough for Jules until she was in her teens.

Jules remembers an argument they had about it, when she was eighteen and got caught practicing spells she wasn't even supposed to know, let alone use. Just a little techromancy, she'd said, how could  _ that _ hurt anything? Eliza had disagreed, saying anything more than something like basic prestidigitation incurred risk to both of them; hunters would  _ find _ them, burn them both at the stake-- but  _ are _ there even witch hunters, Jules remembers her voice straining on the words,  _ are _ there, Mom?! None of them had shown up yet, not in the fourteen years since she'd discovered her powers! If they were out there then why hadn't Nipton been burned to the ground?! There were enough witches and sorcerers in town; hell, there was a damn  _ necromantic portal _ at the Mojave Drive-In! The place should have been  _ crawling _ with hunters!

This wasn't the first time they'd had this very argument-- Eliza had been more and more anxious about her daughter's magic the older Jules got-- nor was it the most explosive, but Jules remembers it, even after being shot and lobotomized and burned, because of how it ended: with her mother's voice trailing off, her eyes unfocusing and her knees buckling, toppling her to the floor. The first of many absence seizures Eliza would have over the course of her last year, and what finally made her confess to Jules what she'd done. She knew what was going on because she'd brought it on herself, she was responsible for her own end…

_ God, Jules. You have to stop letting your mind wander off like this. _

Don't think about her death, don't think about the aftermath, don't think about how hauntingly familiar Caesar's symptoms were. How desperate you were not to lose him too, so desperate you did things you would've considered unthinkable once, and in the process your insight into his condition saved him and doomed yourself.

_ Caesar _ had promised to teach her. Swore up and down he was the only one with the skills to help such a powerful witch get a handle on her magic. He was  _ divine _ (he insisted), the son of  _ Mars _ (he insisted), the gods would help him guide her (he  _ insisted _ ) to her full potential in his Legion.

Well,  _ Edward, _ guess who's divine  _ now _ .

Jules lets out something between a growl and a sigh and flops backwards to gaze up at the stars. A lot of good her god blood’s doing her, trapped in limbo. She'd  _ think _ being divine would give her some advantage over  _ Vool-piss _ and his banishment rituals but  _ apparently not _ . Some pissant little  _ vampire _ shouldn't be able to banish a  _ god. _

Half-god.

...Half-half-god.

Whatever. If Silas resurrects her like he promised--  _ when _ he resurrects her-- she's going to drive a stake right through Vulpes’ heart; no one's stopping her this time.

…What’s taking him so long? Jules doesn't know how long, exactly, it's been since he left, but hasn't it been a while? After telling her he was a demigod he hadn't been able to stay and explain, dissolving into thin air before her but swearing he'd come back for her, he wouldn't leave his  _ daughter _ behind.

She'd never had a  _ father _ either. The closest thing she had was…

Where  _ is _ he? Silas said he kept his word, but...oh god, he isn't coming back, is he? How does she know he told the truth about who he is-- about  _ anything?! _ She  _ doesn't _ know, that's the thing, and with her track record the odds of him  _ meaning _ any of what he said, of being  _ trustworthy?! _ What the hell is she  _ thinking?! _

Jules can feel panic building in her chest but there's nothing she can do to ease it, not even any distractions, just sheer  _ panic, _ blood leaking faster and faster from her neck as if imitating a racing heartbeat. She takes a deep breath, several even, to try and calm her nerves but as usual her lungs don't fill; it's just a habit at this point, no real use to it. Her fingernails start tearing new holes in her tights, she scratches at her thighs, her wrists, she curls her knees to her chest and--

There's a hole in the space in front of her. That's the only way she can think of to describe it, just...an  _ absence _ of anything. Jules eases herself off the ground and takes a couple cautious steps towards it. The closer she gets the more she notices the low hum it's emitting, the better she can see through it, but on the other side there's...nothing. Just void, deep purpleish black, dark and forbidding.

And, possibly, a way out.

Jules brushes her hands off on her skirt. This is a stupid idea-- she's had a  _ lot _ of stupid ideas but this one is one of the  _ most _ stupid. How does she know it doesn't just lead to oblivion? Or to Hell? Does it even matter if it does? Eternal damnation or ceasing to exist both sound more appealing than where she is now. At least in Hell she'll know why she's there.

Jules takes another deep breath and turns to give her wasteland one last look. The stars are just as unfamiliar as ever, the trail of her blood on the sand drying and fading away.

“Right. Let's do this.”

She closes her eyes and steps forward into the darkness.

Her stomach drops as gravity suddenly seizes her and yanks her down into the void; she has the unmistakable sensation of falling but even when she opens her eyes it's too dark to have a metric of how fast she's going, if there's a bottom or sides to wherever she is now. It's just falling, and falling, and falling.

This may have been a mistake.

If time was still relevant she'd say she fell for hours, nothing to occupy her mind anymore, not even the slightest sound or hint of light. Only falling farther and farther down, towards...what? 

Maybe this is what she'll be doing for the rest of eternity now. She'd been hoping for something less... _ nothing. _ The wasteland had been bad enough with no one else around, but now she doesn't even have the luxury of stars or sand to look at, draw in,  _ feel _ . Boredom is the worst part.

She wonders if this is what happened to her mother when she died.

Then Jules is no longer falling but standing, shakily, and the blackness fades to a fine, well-lit room, filled with decor she thinks is from  _ before _ before the war: the walls are covered in paintings, mostly portraits of people, smiling and unsmiling, in an array of clothing and all in vivid color. Massive bookshelves occupy the spaces portraits don't, made of dark, solid wood and stocked with pre-war tomes, leatherbound and in mint condition. Directly across the room from her stands a long table, draped in pure white cloth with elaborately carved chairs on either side, facing each other between gleaming silver candlesticks. 

At the far end, with a wine bottle on the table before her, sits a woman Jules has never seen before, in a dark pantsuit with warm brown hair draped over one shoulder, sharp, high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. She holds herself like royalty, or something beyond royalty, one hand in her lap and the other's fingers tapping lazily on the table. She smiles at Jules without being overly friendly or welcoming, like it's only a formality, and motions for her to sit beside her. Jules obeys.

The woman ever so slightly narrows her eyes, studying Jules for a few moments before speaking. “You  _ are _ tough, aren't you?”

Jules blinks. “I...I'm sorry?”

“Three times you died, and not  _ once _ did you cross over into the ethereal plane. I brought you to the gates but you never went through.” The woman smiles again and picks up a corkscrew, twists it into the bottle. “Something always pulled you back.”

“I don't remember...any of this.” Jules shakes her head and the woman laughs, removing the cork and pouring two glasses of wine.

“Of course you don't. Why would the dead remember dying in the afterlife?” Her brow furrows. “But, you are...an exception, it would seem.”

“Guess I am. I remember dying, alright.” Jules takes one of the glasses and gulps down half of it. “I remember being shot, and then waking up in Goodsprings, and being  _ burned alive  _ and waking up in a bathtub of  _ blood _ , but I don't...there's nothing in between. The plane I was on, I never saw it before.”

“You never went there before.” The woman raises an eyebrow and leans back in her chair. “You were--”

“Resurrected, yeah. Tell me something I  _ don't _ know. Why am I  _ here? _ ”

The woman purses her thin lips and takes a small drink from her glass. “Your sister intervened on your behalf. I want to know why she'd come  _ directly _ to me for someone she'd only learned existed minutes before.”

“You're asking the wrong person, lady.” Jules downs the rest of her wine. “I didn't know she or any of them existed either. None of this was my idea.”

“I know. But they're trying to resurrect you anyway.” The woman crosses one leg over the other, tapping her foot on the hardwood floor. “Someone so  _ special, _ to be pulled out of my hands not once but  _ three _ times...I just had to meet you myself, you understand. See what’s so  _ remarkable _ about you.”

The woman studies her, wordless as her eyes scan over Jules’ hunched and tired form, blood dripping down her neck and drying on her shoulders. Jules plays with the wine glass in her hand but can’t look her in the eye or think of anything to say, other than a soft “I’m part god, I think,” received with a nod but nothing else. The woman’s gaze is piercing, unnerving; Jules feels like she’s being slowly and meticulously taken apart and examined. What bravado the wine had given her was gone moments after she swallowed it under her stare.

“Killing a god is...difficult,” the woman finally says. “Even killing a  _ hero _ is a task most won’t take on.” Jules starts to interrupt her but the woman stops her with a raise of her hand. “No, you’re not a  _ hero _ in the colloquial sense of the word, nor was the one who killed you like most others who tried, I know. But you’re dead, which is a feat, and even more so is the fact that you got caught on the astral plane. Even if you’d entered the ethereal plane you may not have stayed. Your death was undeserved, wasn't it. Combine unfinished business with divine blood and a violent, unwarranted death…”

“No wonder I got stuck back there.” Jules folds her hands in her lap and shifts slightly in her seat, looking away. An unwarranted death? That’s a stretch, but maybe it was based on technicality. Does she deserve death for her crimes? Certainly, and worse. Did she, at the moment Lex's fangs sank into her flesh, deserve to die? Apparently not.

Another thought strikes her. If that plane isn’t...heaven, or whatever comes next after the mortal plane, then that means...“So that desert-- it’s  _ not _ the afterlife? That’s not what death is for everyone?”

“It’s not where your mother is, no.”

Jules releases a breath she didn’t realize she’d taken, let alone held. The woman sips at her wine and looks her over again.

“Tell me about her, Julia. About yourself.”

What? Why did this woman, this... _ goddess, _ she guessed, want to know about her? What did she want from her? “You’re a  _ god _ ; you already know about me, don’t you? You know my  _ name,  _ you know about-- about my mother, about the family  _ I _ don’t even know...what more can I tell you?”

The woman laughs quietly. “You’re not wrong, Julia. There’s nothing you could tell me I don’t already know about you, but...I want your  _ perspective _ . It’s rare I get a chance to hear the souls I escort from one life to the next tell their own stories.”

Jules pauses and thinks for a moment. This might be her only way out of here, or even if she’s stuck and  _ this _ is her afterlife now, it’d be better to have someone to talk to, right? What harm could it do? She was already dead, after all.

So she nods and takes a deep breath, feeling her lungs fill with air for the first time in god knows how long, and starts from the beginning. Her lonely childhood in Nipton, having only her mother to rely on and learn from, terrifying when she’d come into her witch--  _ god-- _ powers. How kind her mother was, how she was beloved even in as awful a town as theirs. Their relationship that was close but grew more strained as Jules got older, only for her to cling so tightly back to her mother when Eliza got sick; the devastation and the destruction she’d wrought on herself after Eliza’s death, just before her nineteenth birthday. Falling into her deepest pit, escaping that hell on earth for a respectable life as a courier, falling in love but being too afraid to commit and burning that bridge (only to have it hastily rebuilt, kind of, but, but that’s another story that comes later, she says) and getting kidnapped and  _ shot _ , her first death.

More hesitant now. Her first revival in Goodsprings, the instant, burning hatred she’d had for the man who shot her and that same hatred reignited for the NCR when she returned after years gone to Nipton to find it burned, rightfully so, at the hands of the Legion. Even after  _ everything _ she’s reluctant to admit Nipton didn’t entirely deserve what it got. The quest for revenge that turned into swearing allegiance to...to a  _ dictator, _ who  _ used _ her and  _ manipulated _ her and betrayed the absolute trust she’d placed in him as her surrogate father. The abuse she’d suffered at the hands of his vampire spymaster that fueled her determination to prove his accusations of incompetence  _ wrong _ and lead Caesar’s Legion to victory at Hoover Dam-- that same determination and hatred that led her to commit atrocities, slaughter countless in every destroyed NCR camp, every town the Legion took over, every underground bunker she blew up. Victory came at a cost not just to the Mojave but to  _ her; _ her arrogance led to her humiliation in the streets of Freeside and second death, this one in flames at the spymaster’s hand.

The second resurrection, waking up soaking in four men’s worth of blood, hustled away from New Vegas with the blood mage, Lexington, that brought her back to life and promised to keep her alive, even after recruiting Lex’s cousin-- the very same spymaster that set her ablaze. The trials they’d survived together, from ambushes and monsters to slavers and minor demons; a resistance meeting that reunited her with, among others, her former love who, she’d learned, was a  _ witch hunter _ , and the near-mythical Burned Man himself. Through  _ everything, _ Lex had kept her promise, going above and beyond in her loyalty to Jules though both of them knew Jules didn’t deserve it after what she’d done,  _ proving _ it in a daring rescue from a Brotherhood of Steel bunker…

Jules pauses her recollections. No one had ever come back for her before. No one else she’d known would have dared to challenge Brotherhood paladins for what was rightfully theirs, and with Jules’ crimes, she  _ was _ rightfully theirs to punish as they’d seen fit. Lex had, though, Lex and...her cousin, no doubt persuaded into coming along in an attempt to atone for his previous actions.  _ Lex _ hadn’t had a reason to, though; anything Jules could have done for the resistance her cousin could have done too, and probably better, but they came after her anyway, because it was  _ right _ . Because they couldn’t leave her behind. 

And Lex had meant every word she said, about respecting her, about looking out for her sisters in the Mojave, about keeping her alive, and she’d  _ done _ it...until they got back to Vegas, and the spymaster betrayed them, bringing his cousin into undeath with him as his thrall and  _ ordering _ her to kill Jules. Her third death, not a betrayal by a friend as she’d thought but by someone she’d made the mistake of putting the slightest modicum of trust in even though she’d known  _ better _ . And she’d gotten back at him, at  _ both _ of them, with her hauntings, and Lex had come through for her again for as long as she could by purposefully botching the banishment rituals her cousin made her do. She’d been so wrong, so ungrateful for everything Lex had done for her...in the end it was  _ him _ who was responsible for everything--  _ everything. _ Barring her first death, almost everything could be traced back to one man, and she’d make him  _ pay _ for it. Or she would, if she wasn’t trapped on the astral plane.

The woman nods throughout Jules’ story, attentive, occasionally taking sips of wine but never looking away. When Jules trails off after telling of her final banishment she nods, takes a moment to process and stands, setting her empty glass on the table. She smooths her pantsuit and strolls over to a pedestal bearing a large, yellowed tome, opens the book and flips towards the back. “Thank you for sharing this, Julia. As I mentioned it’s rare for a soul to tell me everything themselves before moving on, but I find it helps to keep myself...grounded. I have my duties, necessary and solemn as they are, but without interacting with mortals, whether through conversation or through walking among them, as I've done occasionally, I would fall out of touch. I can’t afford to lose this perspective; it would be dangerous and hardly appropriate. 

“My siblings had their fun during the Great War, but I can't be so reckless. I'm the one left cleaning up the mess when it's all said and done. After the war I had half a mind to be done, end it all-- this plane and all its gods, my siblings,  _ myself _ , give in to entropy. But the souls I guided reminded me of my responsibility...and for mercy, I received mercy. The other three are bound--” She stops and wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Well. Two of them still are. One was freed by your  _ Caesar _ , but me...I was never imprisoned in the first place. Because I chose to spare the mortal plane and continue on in my duties, thanks to souls like yours and your family’s.”

Jules frowns, picking at a hole in her tights. “So that’s-- that’s all you wanted? That’s all you brought me here for? Since when have  _ gods _ cared about being in touch with mortals? We’re nothing to them; if they cared they would intervene and-- and stop people like…” 

She hesitates.  _ Like me _ , she thinks.

“People like Caesar,” she says.

The woman looks back at her and smiles, friendlier this time. “I think you’re underestimating the gods. The ones I’ve met are limited in how they can directly intervene but they care deeply for their people-- and the ones I’ve escorted beyond especially so; they’re devastated when I greet them instead of faces of the last of the believers they’ve finally had to bid farewell.” She tilts her head as if it’s helping her recall something long past. “I remember one god-- fairly recent by my standards, the god of a once sprawling, powerful tribe in Arizona-- whose very last follower was dying after a terrible accident. I’d come to accompany the man, but this god was so heartbroken at the loss that his despair turned to defiance. He begged me to let the man continue on, but my rules cannot be broken…” 

Her smile turns a little mischievous. “They can, however, be bent. This god offered use the last inkling of his divine power to resurrect his follower, and he would go instead, if only I would let the man live. What time he had left as a god meant nothing to him without believers, but if the man lived, the god’s memory would live too. So I allowed it. His willingness to sacrifice his own existence for the sake of one man was…” She blinks, appearing to Jules to be on the verge of tears. “I was  _ moved _ . The man lived, and I would not allow his god to go with me. His sacrifice, his act of pure love fused the two of them together, their existence defined by each other.”

Jules nods, still fidgeting. She knows  _ exactly _ who she's talking with now, and the realization has only made her more nervous.

“All of you,” the woman continues, “you and your gods, you’re capable of this love, and it's indescribable and  _ endlessly _ fascinating. Displays such as that, and of your friend's love for her cousin and for you, despite what the two of you did, your lover’s search for you across the wastes, your mother's ultimate sacrifice for your sake, your father's determination to save the daughter he never met...they're powerful enough to affect even me. They remind me of your humanity, that you are  _ worthwhile. _ It would be easy to become removed and distant-- gods often do-- but I neither want nor can allow that for myself. My siblings can't understand this. They  _ are _ the worst we have to offer, but I can see when something has value beyond fodder for destruction and bloodlust.”

“Then why am  _ I _ the one worth talking to? My mom, Lex, Chavez, they're all the ones who sacrificed for  _ me _ \-- God knows I didn't do them any favors.”

“And yet they saw something worth sacrificing for in you. Why should I let their efforts be in vain? Or, if you'd prefer, you owe them a  _ debt _ , and I believe in  _ repaying _ what's owed.” The woman shuts the book and returns to the table to take Jules’ hands and pull her up to stand. “Either way, I think we've kept them waiting long enough, haven't we?”

She reaches out a hand and opens another hole identical to the one Jules saw in the wasteland. It's just as dark, just as empty, and Jules gives her a worried look.

“I don't...if that's going back to the other plane, don't make me go in there, please don't.”

“It won't return you to the astral plane. The woman squeezes the hand she still holds and guides Jules forward. “It'll be alright.”

Jules looks up at her and she smiles, warm and gentle. Her features have softened somewhat over the course of their conversation, bringing her closer to resembling... _ Eliza _ , she looks almost like Eliza, but still just different enough to not be.

“Are you ready?”

Instead of answering aloud, Jules nods and lets herself be led towards the hole. With one last squeeze of her hands, the woman gestures her forward. “Give your sister my thanks for the wine.” 

Jules nods again, shuts her eyes, takes another deep breath and steps forward into the dark once more.

Another sudden drop, and again the sensation of falling, but this time it only lasts mere seconds before a hand grabs her by the wrist and starts pulling her upwards. She wraps her fingers around its own wrist and squeezes tight, praying to whoever's listening that this isn't her ultimate end after all. The more it pulls the more she starts feeling the warm water against her skin instead of the nothingness of falling, a tingling in her nerves like blood flowing back into a limb that's fallen asleep except over her entire body. She realizes she's been holding her breath for a very long time. Too long, in fact, she needs to breathe, she needs to breathe  _ NOW! _

The pull gets stronger and stronger; Jules speeds through the water until she's finally bursting through the surface, gasping to relieve her burning lungs, still holding tight to the hand that has hers. So much, there's  _ so much _ going on all at once-- the cloying smell of incense, skin like a raw nerve screaming against the slightest touch, candlelight blinding her; her own breathing is deafening and drowns out the voices, three of them, talking over each other and asking her questions there's no way she can answer, not when she can't even  _ hear _ them under her gasps and the thundering of her pulse in her ears--

_ Her pulse _ .

Jules’ free hand flies to her neck-- the gash is gone, no more blood trickling out, staining her skin. It's healed. She's... she's  _ alive _ .

As her senses adjust she's helped out of the tub and into a plush, warm towel. Her shaky knees make it impossible to stand so she eases herself down to kneel on the cool tile floor, black water closer to the consistency of paint rolling off her in beads, leaving inky trails and puddling around her legs. She realizes she's still leaning heavily on that same arm for support, and that its owner is talking to her, softly but urgently.

“Jules? You alright? Can you hear me?”

It's Silas’ voice.

Jules’ eyes dart up to look at him kneeling with her and she realizes his face is entirely in focus now; she can see and  _ remember  _ what she couldn't on the astral plane, and she sees  _ herself _ in him. His face is fraught with worry but there's no denying their relation. Anyone with two good eyes could see it, she reasons.

Her gasps have slowed to panting by now. Over Silas’ shoulder she sees two more figures, a dark, elegant woman with her hair pulled back in a neat bun, regarding her with some suspicion, and a teenage girl wearing pajamas, a sheer floral robe and a satisfied grin. These must be his family, right; he mentioned having a wife and daughter...

Jules looks back to Silas and nods. “It's you,” she croaks out, “you're...you're  _ him. _ ”

Blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears, Silas throws his arms around her and pulls her into a tight embrace. “Yeah...yeah, it's me, babygirl, I'm here. You're okay, you're gonna be okay, thank God.”

“Uh, you're  _ welcome _ ,” the girl behind him says, but her tone carries more levity to it than malice. “Told you it would work.”

" _ Evangeline. _ ” The girl's mother frowns and leads her out of the bathroom; their soft footsteps fade through the bedroom and down the hall.

Jules rests her head on her father's shoulder, fighting back her own wave of tears. “Thank you...thank you for coming for me, for bringing me back, I...thank you so much, Silas.”

“I told you I would, babygirl. An’ I keep my word, don't I?” He rubs her back, gentle strokes up and down her spine. “Welcome back to the land of the livin’.”


	35. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lex 1-ups her cousin super hard.

“Tell me.  _ The truth. _ ”

Vulpes’s voice was low, silky, piercing. The voice of a charm--trying to dig it deep into the man kneeling at his feet, bound and bruised, an attempt to coil his vampiric persuasions around the man’s mind. 

“ _ F-fuck you.” _

Lex hung back, watching the interrogation. Her cousin raised his hand and unleashed a wicked backhanded slap across the man’s face, sending some blood from his mouth spattered on to the floor. A slap that hard probably would’ve killed most men, but not this praetorian. Caesar’s guard were all werewolves, something the dictator had once cooed to Lex about--how he loved the  _ pack _ mentality. Just another way he could be the  _ alpha _ and the  _ omega _ . 

“ _ Tell me,  _ **_now._ ** _ Where. Are. They.” _

Vulpes grabbed the man’s head, forcing his eyes to lock his own, trying to nail in his charm as strongly as possible. Werewolves were resistant to charms, but not  _ immune _ , yet the praetorians were some of the toughest legionaries there were, and Vulpes had been having some… difficulties, in cracking this one.

The praetorian grimaced, sputtering out words haphazardly--

“N-no-- _ never _ \--I d-don’t  _ have to _ \--y-you  _ fucking vampire _ \--pale-- _ weak _ \--”

With a flick of his wrists Vulpes threw the man’s head down, cracking hard into the jail cell’s concrete floor, but not fatally. The praetorian groaned, a new gash opened and bleeding along his forehead. Lex could smell the fresh spurt of blood--earthen, rich, coppery--werewolf blood had a unique scent to it, it reminded Lex of the dirt in the Arizona pinewood forests right after a spring rainfall. 

She could see her cousin’s irritation growing. He  _ hated _ dealing with the praetorians for this very reason--they were  _ stubborn _ , and worse yet,  _ durable _ . It didn’t help they had a clock ticking over their heads, too. The full moon was rising, and  _ soon _ , and they  _ needed _ this information before then.

“You should learn some  _ manners _ ,  **_whelp_ ** **.** If you had any, you wouldn’t be  _ here _ in this situation right now. Kill all the time you want, but  _ we will _ learn what we need, and you will learn  _ very  _ clearly why you should  _ not _ take what  _ isn’t yours _ .” Vulpes said, lower and more flat than before, while pacing around the man.

Vulpes always hated internal  _ clean-up duties _ like this, keeping Legionaries in check for minor infractions. A few of some centurion’s  _ concubines _ had gone missing and Vulpes’s agents had traced the culprit back to this praetorian. Lex’s face twisted a little more in disgust. Praetorians were some of the highest ranking legionaries in the entire legion and sometimes the  _ privileges _ that came with that  _ still _ wasn’t enough for them--like the wild dogs they are, they were ravenous, and Lex figured that if they weren’t kept in check by Lucius and Caesar, they’d succumb to the wanton gluttonies of their instincts and kill and eat and  _ fuck _ until they were  _ dead _ . Even with the  _ leash _ kept tight on them, sometimes there was still one which sought out the excess they craved, and thusly, Lex and her cousin were here to teach a lesson and find out where the missing concubines had gone. Too much time had passed already--a delay of another night would’ve tarnished the frumentarii’s reputation for efficiency, and worse yet, put the women at greater  _ risk _ , wherever they were and  _ whoever _ they were with. They were…  _ reserved _ for their centurion. Conception by another man would’ve meant  _ death _ for sure.

As much as Lex generally loathed working for her cousin, sometimes there were minor exceptions to her distaste for their missions. This one? She  _ wanted _ complete, as  _ fast _ as possible. 

In response to her cousin, all the man did was heave in breaths, glancing up at Vulpes and letting out a low growl while baring his sharp teeth. 

“Such  _ belligerence!  _ You are truly a  _ pathetic _ example of your kind,  _ mutt _ . You should know by now your resistance is nothing short of a confession of  _ guilt _ . Every  _ second _ you delay only equates to a more  _ painful _ death. So.”

Vulpes stopped his pacing, kneeling in front of the man and grabbing his tunic’s collar, lifting the man up enough to meet his eyes again--

“I will give you.  _ One _ . Last chance. To tell the truth.  _ Where. Are. They. _ ”

The man spat in Vulpes’s face, her cousin’s charm achieving nothing, and in retaliation Vulpes grabbed the man by his hair, and with his other hand, crushed the man’s nose between his thumb and forefinger, cartilage squishing and bone cracking as musty werewolf blood poured down the praetorian’s face.

Vulpes let go of him, wiping his face clean and whipping around to face Lex, the anger clear in his eyes. Lex loved what insult and stress could do to his normally cold expression, and she grinned at him, seeing a brief flicker of more rage, before he steadied his face back to the flat marble image he always kept it at. 

“Jessie.”

He addressed her, icy and calm.

“Oh…?” Lex answered back, in as bored a tone she could muster.

“We’re running out of  _ time _ .  _ You _ give this an attempt. If you fail, this is  _ your fault _ . Do you  _ understand? _ ”

She sighed lackadaisically, nodding at him and lazily stepping forward towards the praetorian. She took a deep breath, stretching her arms behind her head and cracking her neck, before swinging an arm over to stretch her shoulder.

“ _ Jessie.  _ Stop this  _ dallying _ .”

“Allllllright.” She said back, slowly and deliberate. 

A shame at that command, honestly. She couldn’t finish her stretch or relish this process. She knelt down beside the praetorian, grabbing his chin and lifting his face to meet her gaze. She studied his face--bruised, broken, blood smeared and purple, old scars hidden by new wounds. He had hazel eyes that narrowed when he looked at her, face contorted from pain and disgust. Werewolves were always disdainful of vampires…

She stared into his eyes, past their hazel, into his pupils, and beyond them, boring into his mind, carving her  _ hatred _ and  _ venom  _ into an unbreakable, diamond-studded drill. She saw his eyes widen as he felt it penetrate his skull, face dropping, not even conscious of the freshly broken nose still painfully bleeding all over it. 

“Where did you put those women.” Lex whispered, softly, melodically. 

Without a beat his jaw dropped and words started pouring out--

“I put them in a suite in Gomorrah, on the seventh floor, room number seven-two-four. I brought them there after taking them from the high roller suite in the tops four nights ago, several hours before dawn, when I sent a recruit to fetch them with orders I forged from their Centurion, Aurelius. I left the keys to their room buried in a potted plant on the seventh floor of Gomorrah, the furthest down the western hallway, and I visit them when the guard shifts change at two and six in the morning, giving me enough time to fuck them all and--”

“ _ That’s enough.” _ Lex snapped at him, and he quieted instantly. 

She let go of him and stood up, her hands clenched into fists, and stepped back, holding her breath. The praetorian blinked a few times, confused and wincing, before looking back up at her with an expression she  _ hoped _ had more _ fear _ than anger in it.

“Well, well, well.”

She heard her cousin stepping forward, giving her a few slow claps as he came to stand between her and the praetorian.

“Glad I could’ve loosened him up for you, Jessie.”

Vulpes looked down at the man, smiling his chilling, fanged smile, making eye contact with him--

“Now that you’re feeling  _ talkative _ , tell me, were you  _ stupid _ enough to spill your filthy animal seed  _ inside _ them…?”

“W-why, does that th-thought  _ turn you on? _ ” the praetorian growled back with a weak, bloody smirk.

“TELL HIM.” Lex commanded from behind her cousin, barely containing her volume, her fists shaking as she stabbed her rage through the room and back into the man’s brain.

His face dropped immediately, as answers droned out once more--

“Yes--all of them--every night since then--I fucked them  _ all _ and  _ came _ in their tight--”

“SHUT UP!!” Lex shouted, cutting him off and leaping forward, around her cousin, to  _ rip _ this man’s fucking FACE off, reaching her clawed hands out towards him to--

“Stop.”

Lex froze at her cousin’s command, inches away from the praetorian. That  _ fucking _ grin was back on his face as he watched her halt at his words.

“Now Jessie, don’t you  _ touch _ him. This is  _ Legion _ business to handle. Who knows if Caesar will even deem it necessary to  _ kill _ him?” he said, mockery palpable in every word.

“Fine.” Lex spat out, lurching back, shaking, glancing around the room furious before spotting an old meal tray with some utensils left from feeding the last prisoner held there.

She glared at the Praetorian, a low, shaky hiss in her voice as she spoke towards him--

“ _ YOU. _ Break your bonds and take the spoon from that tray and  _ carve your eyes out _ .”

He grimaced, squirming as he pressed his wrists and ankles against the rope that bound him, putting enough force to dig them deep into his flesh as Lex heard a bone crack and ropes snap.

“ _ JESSIE! YOU-- _ ” Vulpes turned his attention back towards the praetorian, “STOP this, IMMEDIATELY.”

“Not until you’ve  _ carved your FUCKING EYES OUT!!!”  _ Lex shouted over her cousin. 

The praetorian was like a man dying of thirst, the spoon, a canteen of water--he lurched towards it, desperate and bleeding, grasping the spoon in his trembling, bloody hands.

“Put DOWN that spoon _!!! _ ” Vulpes hissed at him, locking eyes and laying on his charm as thick in his voice as he could. 

“EYES. Carved. OUT.” Lex hissed back, breaking the man’s moment of hesitation and pulverizing his will with the crushing iron weight of her own as he held the spoon, plunging it deep into his left eye socket underneath his eye without ANY pause.

“ _ STOP THIS!! STOP THIS NOW!! _ ” Vulpes tried to shout back at the man, his charmed commands lost in the praetorian’s shrieking screams as the blood spurted from his eye socket and he wrenched the spoon forward, launching out the pulpy mess he had reduced his eyeball to, a wet plunk as it fell onto the concrete floor, a slimy sound amidst the piercing cries the man was making.

Vulpes clenched his teeth and snarled, glaring the man directly in the eye that was left--

“CEASE THIS.  **_NOW._ ** ”

His words didn’t even register as the man extended his arm again to swing the spoon back up, carving deep into his right eye, blood dribbling out from around it--above the eye now now, he yanked the spoon up, prying out his last eye as he squealed and immediately dropped the spoon, falling back down to the floor and clawing helplessly at his red, pulpy face as he writhed in his own blood on the floor.

Vulpes whipped around and darted towards Lex, grabbing her shirt and slamming her against the cell wall with a thud that intermingled with the praetorian’s continued pathetic cries of agony. 

“ **_How_ ** …. How did you DO that, Jessie?” he sneered at her.

As if the answer wasn’t obvious. Between the music of the man’s screams and the fury on her cousin’s face, she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“Come now,  _ Vulpes _ , you know the answer to  _ that _ .”

“ _ Jessie,  _ you  _ insolent _ \--a little  _ luck _ is  _ nothing  _  to brag about.”

“Oh please, you really don’t think it was  _ luck _ , do you? Face it, I’m  _ stronger _ than you are.”

“That’s what you THINK.”

He threw her to the ground hard enough for her to hear some of her own bones crack--if it wasn’t for the noise she wouldn’t have known. Pain these days was so hard to tell apart, with how  _ brief _ it all was as she healed. Still, she smiled up at him, laying still on the floor.

“That’s what I  _ know _ . Nothing’s changed, huh? Sure, you might be able to boss me around nowadays, but in the end you still gotta call big cousin Jessie over to clean up your  _ messes _ .”

His hands tensed, clawed, as he snarled back at her--

“Don’t get any  _ delusions _ about our relationship,  _ Jessie _ . I will ALWAYS be stronger than you because I will ALWAYS  _ control you _ . How about I ask YOU to take that spoon and carve your OWN eyes out, hmm??”

Lex laughed, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion.

“They’d just heal, and y’know how I am with  _ pain _ . You could have me poppin’ them out ‘till we have enough to play  _ pool _ with and all it’d do is  _ bore  _ me.”

“I’ll make you do it with a  _ silver _ spoon.”

“And cripple your most prized toy? Actually please, go ahead, it’ll give me an excuse to go on less missions.”

“Less multiplied by  _ eternity _ is still  _ infinity _ , Jessie. You’ll  _ never _ escape my  _ servitude _ .”

“ _ We’ll see. _ ”

“Not when you don’t have  _ eyes-- _ ”

Vulpes was cut off by the same noise that Lex had just picked up on--the praetorian’s wails had suddenly deepened, turning more into  _ growls _ as his writhing suddenly picked up fury.

“Aw Vulpes, whoops, guess we lollygagged too much, eh? Well since you’re the  _ stronger _ one,  _ do something _ about this.” Lex said, rolling over onto her side and leaning her head against her hand.

“ _ Watch me _ .” Vulpes hissed back, heading towards the man on the floor whose limbs were elongating with sickening cracks and pops as his growls became pained howls. 

He stomped forward, extending his arms to grab the man’s increasingly furry head and to snap his neck, but his hands were grabbed by claws and suddenly, two long legs lurched up and slammed squarely into Vulpes’s stomach, sending him flying back into the cell wall with a WHAM! He slid to the ground, dazed, as the pops and snaps continued from the increasingly-wolfy man, two loud snaps as his legs twisted and grew to their digitigrade, lupine forms.

“Yikes.” Lex said, taking in the scene and all its glory.

The praetorian grew, his tunica tearing at the seams as his bulk became too much for it, fur erupting out of every inch of his skin and his nose lengthening into a sharp-toothed snout, eyes twitching and attempting to blink as the blood stopped pouring from their sockets and new flesh took place. 

Vulpes shook his head, returning to the moment, watching the man truly become wolf. He looked frantically towards Lex and back at the werewolf, motioning for her to do  _ something _ . Lex just smiled and continued laying down, and pretended to examine her fingernails. See how long until he gets it, she thought.

“JESSIE!” he finally shouted at her, “Why aren’t you  _ doing anything???? _ ”

With a feigned coy innocence, she answered back--

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, dear cousin, I thought you told me  _ not to touch him?? _ ”

“NEVERMIND THAT!! STOP THAT  _ THING!!! _ ”

“Can’t handle it, hmm?” she said, standing up, “well alright then. Jessie to the rescue, ONCE again.” 

She stretched her arms out and cracked her knuckles as her cousin glared at her, all the while the wolf taking greater form as its creaking and twitching became more controlled and precise, its limb longer and stiller and  _ clawed _ , gaping jaws now where a mouth once was. 

The wolf turned towards Vulpes and snapped its eyes open, revealing its new, startlingly yellow gaze. It spread its gaping maw wide and roared at him, lunging at him with outstretched claws--Lex steeled herself with what rage and thrill she had at that moment to delay on her cousin’s order juuuust enough--and the wolf POUNCED on him, slamming him back into the wall and sinking its massive claws DEEP deep into his pale flesh, tearing through his armor like  _ butter _ and sending his dark red blood across the floor and walls as he screamed in pain.

Unable to resist any longer, Lex lurched forward, springing towards the wolf and SLAMMING into it just before it was able to bring its strong jaws down on her cousin’s head, wrenching it off of him and sending it back a few feet before it could gather its bearings and swipe at Lex with its sharp, muscular arms. She dodged each swipe, leaning down and stepping back and bracing herself for the wolf to try and bring its jaws down on her.

Sure enough it leapt at her, mouth agape, and Lex stopped it  _ in its tracks _ \--she grabbed its jaws, one hand on the lower jaw, one on the upper, holding it back as it growled and swung its claws at her, trailing nasty gashes along her stomach as she gritted her teeth and ignored the pain, putting as much pressure as she could on the beast’s mouth, pushing it back, before yanking up and down on its jaws with each hand, a loud CRACK echoing through the small cell as she snapped its mouth in half, the lower jaw dangling helplessly from some torn flesh as the wolf screeched out in agony, recoiling back and low into the corner of the room.

Taking the opening, Lex ran and grasped her hands around its skull, pressing down and together with her fury and vampiric might, muscles flexing and arms tense and defined with the force, until the wolf’s skull  _ erupted _ and spewed blood and brain matter across the cell with a mighty POP and CRACK, the wolf’s head falling from her hands as its body collapsed on the floor with a muted thud. 

She stood back, flesh and blood dripping off her hands as she turned towards her cousin, still against the wall and clutching the healed skin where he had been clawed.

“So much for that  _ playground bully _ , eh, ‘cuz?”

A brief flash of fury on his face and he caught himself, straightening out his posture as Lex smiled wide and toothily at him. He adjusted his broken armor and tunic and coldly addressed his cousin again--

“Now that  _ that’s _ taken care of, I need you to report to Cato. Tell him where the  _ whores _ are.”

“Will do!” Lex chirped back cheerily.

She turned to exit the cell, key clicking in the lock as the metal door swung open with a rusty screech.

“ _ Oh, _ and Jessie,  _ don’t forget _ , inform Cato that when he finds them, they are to be  _ executed _ .”

Lex whirled around--

“NO, you  _ can’t _ \--”

“--I CAN.” Vulpes interrupted, the faintest hint of a smirk gathering on his pale lips, “now  _ be quiet _ . I don’t want to hear another word from you until after you report to Cato, yes? Make sure he knows to get rid of those  _ sullied goods _ .”

Lex opened her mouth, wanting to curse, wanting to scream, but nothing came out, and she clenched her teeth together and bared her fangs at her cousin, eyes narrowing and her whole body shaking, his glee at her rage evident. 

Lex took in a deep breath, letting her face fall blank and calming her body, taking a page out of her cousin’s awful book--stone faced and icy, she nodded, and walked away.


	36. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes is frustrated and threatens to make Lex even MORE miserable.

This isn't sustainable, keeping Jessie around. Vulpes knew she was stronger than him  _ physically _ , of course, she always has been, and she's always been stubborn too, but turning her hasn't weakened her like he thought. He'd known her physical abilities would be enhanced as his had been, but he wasn't prepared for her  _ will _ to become as ironclad as it has. She is his  _ thrall, _ she's  _ supposed _ to do everything he commands. And yet she resists.

Vulpes suspects that if he hadn't told her not to, she would have killed him by now.

She’s talking at him, relaying details of the latest assignment he’d given her with great relish, elaborately recreating the tale of her bloody triumph over a camp of rangers, but he’s tuned her out, idly drawing on the edges of the map rolled out on his desk. Jessie’s good,  _ too _ good. Better than he is, he realizes now. Rather, he  _ realized _ after she  _ crushed _ a werewolf’s skull with her bare hands just before it sliced him to ribbons. How is he supposed to lead his men when  _ she _ can outdo him?

He can’t, that’s how. With his authority undermined at every turn by his own thrall, his own  _ family _ , he can’t very well expect the frumentarii to listen to him, not when they see him struggling to control that ‘secret weapon’ he’d been so proud of those first few days. So  _ thrilled _ to have someone with Jessie’s knowledge and skill set under his thumb. And it hadn’t been a  _ week _ before she started challenging him at every  _ possible _ turn.

Jessie launches into the story of the  _ seventh _ ranger she’d slaughtered and exactly how she’d done it, but at this point Vulpes is too far gone into his own musing to even pretend he’s listening anymore. Even starving her hasn’t done anything; she’s been expressly forbidden from feeding while on his assignments but  _ somehow _ she is getting enough sustenance to keep going. It’s the doctor, probably. Aside from himself-- and... _ Caesar _ , of course-- Gannon’s the only person she has contact with. And he hasn’t been found bled dry in his quarters yet, so she hasn’t given into her hunger and drained him, no matter how little Vulpes allows her to feed. The next logical step to break her would be to forbid her from speaking with the doctor, or ordering her to kill him, but being the direct cause of death for Caesar’s other favorite toy would be a death sentence for Vulpes, he knows this well. Prohibiting the two of them from socializing wouldn’t be effective either, not with his cousin’s willpower.

“--Artie? You listenin’ t’me?”

He looks up from his doodles to see Jessie’s smirk as she folds her arms across her chest. His eyes narrow with his bored sigh and he leans back, resting his feet on the desk. “No, I’m afraid I haven’t been, Jessie. Why would I bother listening when you’ve told me the same thing, week after week after  _ week? _ It’s getting quite dull.”

It’s clear in her expression how little she cares about his entertainment.

“You’ll have to do better than that if you want anything to eat. How long has it been since your last meal?” He pretends to study her sunken face, tilting his head at the sound, however muted, of her growling stomach. “It’s been a few days, hasn’t it? Tell me the truth.”

She stares at him, narrowing her own eyes. “‘Bout a week.”

“Hm.” Vulpes lets his gaze drift away from her, absentmindedly tapping his pen against his lips. “And only seven rangers? How disappointing.”

“ _ Arthur-- _ ”

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that.  _ Multiple _ times.” Their eyes finally lock again. “I know what you’re doing behind my back, Jessie. I’ve allowed it thus far in my  _ kindness _ and  _ generosity _ , but I can take that away. Just like  _ everything _ else, Jessie.”

He draws himself out of his chair, hands on his desk, and leans forward, nearly a foot taller than her at his full height. “I can continue making this worse for you, every day, for the rest of eternity, until you’re  _ begging _ me to stop. You think you can outlast me but that is  _ not _ a task you want to take on,  _ believe me _ .”

“You talk a big game, Artie.” Jessie’s voice is as low and flat as his. “But so far you ain’t been able t’play. Everythin’ you thrown at me, I been able to take  _ jus’ fine _ . What makes y’think I’m gonna change jus’ ‘cause y’give me more’a these  _ empty _ threats?”

“Everyone has a breaking point. Yours may be buried deep,  _ deep _ under your skin but rest assured,  _ I will find it _ .”

“That’s how y’wanna spend the rest a’ yer  _ wretched _ existence?” She clenches her jaw in defiance. “Suit yerself.”

Vulpes takes a long, deep breath through his nose. They both know how transparent his posturing is, but he’s determined to start throwing his weight behind his words again, he  _ will _ break her again. Again, and again, and again, until she’s no longer recognizable.


	37. Lafayette Jones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We check in with Lafayette and Vegas once more.

To Farkas’ surprise and Lafayette's infinite, smug satisfaction, the lady vampire had told the truth-- the Silver Rush had indeed been overrun by frumentarii, frumentarii dealt with quickly enough thanks to crucifix stakes and silver bullets, bodies burned behind the depot on the west side.

Less satisfying was the vanishing of said lady vampire, no drumbeat of thoughts from under the rubble Lafayette brought down on her. Gone without a trace. Farkas’ turn to be smug.

Back on patrol on the streets tonight, one hand constantly on her revolver. Don't make eye contact with the gate guards, don't even _look_ in their direction-- her unfortunately defaced Ranger armor and helmet disguise her silhouette but the minute she has to _speak_ to someone her cover’s blown. Farkas offered to send someone with her, sort of an attempt at a peace offering, but she declined. Partners are too risky. Can't look out for yourself if you're looking out for someone else too.

Lafayette brushes by a group of Kings escorting some Followers across town-- Emily Ortal, Elizabeth Kieran. Must've joined up after the NCR collapsed. To the Kings’ credit they've been cooperative, quelling turf wars and easing tension best they can, aiding the townsfolk in complying with new restrictions courtesy of Caesar. Even under Legion occupation, what the King says goes; thank God he's on the right side.

The few people still milling about on the streets keep their distance from the gates, out of earshot of Legion guards. No lone wanderers anymore; everyone's accompanied, always, especially the women--

Except that one.

A tall, lanky young woman with a mess of thick black hair swept away from her face in a bun. She offers the Kings and the Followers a friendly wave before making her way to the drop box by the Mormon Fort, paying the staring legionaries no mind. Lafayette lets out a long, frustrated sigh-- no one's gonna tell her? Of course not. Up to her, then.

She ducks into a side street, lifts her helmet and whistles, short and sharp to get the girl's attention. Success-- she strides over, an amused grin on her face that quickly drops off when she's face to face with Lafayette.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” she hisses. “Just waltzing into town like that?! The Legion doesn't _give_ second chances!”

“I'm...delivering the mail?” The girl starts to smile again and shows off the Mojave Express logo on her messenger bag. “I'm a courier, they let me through. Plus--” She takes off her jacket and taps a tattoo on her bared shoulder, a cross surrounded by a simple circle. “I'm friends with the Followers. I'm double off limits.”

“You think any of that makes a difference now?! Mr. House is dead, the Legion's in charge, I _hope_ you're not too dense to realize _that_.”

The girl rolls her eyes. “I’m the mailman. What are they gonna do, _crucify_ me?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

“Oh, come on.” She starts marching towards the gate to the Strip again. “I have a package that needs to get to the Tops and I'll be damned if it's not there on time.”

Barely suppressing a scream of frustration, Lafayette slams her helmet back on and bolts after her. “You think you can just-- _waltz_ onto the Strip like you own the place?”

“I don't think I can, I _know_. I've done it before.”

“With a guard, maybe, but they're not going to let a woman--” She darts forward again, forced to jog to keep up with the girl's long strides. “A woman _alone_ go in-- they barely let their own men through the gates!”

“Then it's a good thing you're going with me, huh?” The girl winks at Lafayette over her shoulder just before she waves to one of the gate guards with a beaming smile. “Hail and well met!”

The younger one, on the left side of the gate with an unruly mop of red hair and the approximate shape and size of a brick wall, scowls and holds up a hand to stop her. “What business do you have in New Vegas, woman?”

“Mojave Express.” She flashes the logo on her messenger bag at him. “Got a package needs to go inside and you know us-- ‘neither acid rain nor hail of bullets will keep these couriers from completing their appointed rounds.’” Her smile glows even brighter under the spotlights of the guard towers.

The legionary shakes his head slowly. “No one's allowed in. No civilians, no one, unless summoned by Lord Caesar.”

Her shoulders slump just slightly. “It's _urgent_ \--”

“No one's. Allowed. In.”

She sighs and shuffles a little bit closer to him, enough for her fingers to brush against his. Lafayette barely catches her next words. “I'm not supposed to be telling anyone this, but this package-- it's for Lord Caesar himself. Top secret, but...I can trust you to keep a secret, right?”

The legionary glares down at her, a small, conspiratorial grin still on her face; his softens and he nods, curiosity getting the best of him at last. “What is it?”

“Swear you won't tell?”

He shakes his head.

“I can trust you, right? We're friends, aren't we... what's your name again?”

“Felix.” He puffs out his chest with pride. “Felix Octavian.”

“Right, we're friends now, Felix, so you gotta keep this secret for me.” She exaggerates looking first over her right shoulder, then her left. “It's blood. _Special_ blood. Caesar needs it-- doin’ some _wicked_ dark magic up in that tower, I heard.”

Felix's eyes widen as the girl's voice speeds up.

“Y’know I've never actually _been_ inside the Lucky 38 but I bet a guy like you’s been in there plenty of times-- do they really have _torture chambers_ in the basement? Like rebel vampires n’ shit hung up on meat hooks while the frumentarii interrogate 'em? Is there a whole werewolf den? Ghosts shrieking through the halls?” She gives a little mock shiver. “Man, it's just like one of those pre-war horror flicks, huh?”

Felix nods, unable to take his eyes off her, a smile of his own starting to crack through, but the other legionary strides over, still stern-faced. “Let me see that package.”

“Oh, of course!” She reaches into her messenger bag and with a flourish produces a small box, neatly wrapped in brown paper and tied up with a bow. The legionary pays it no mind and rips the wrapping off, lifting the hinges lid to peer inside. He pulls out a small glass vial filled to the brim with thick crimson liquid, shakes it a little, making the girl wince. “Careful, don't agitate it!”

He glares at her, still pinching the vial. “What kind of blood is this, exactly?”

She rubs her hands together in glee. “You're never gonna believe it--” She reaches out, pulls both legionaries closer to her, sending a shock through Lafayette; how is she getting away with this?!-- “It's _angel_ blood.”

That gets their attention. Lafayette's too, and despite her better judgment she inches closer, ranger gear now in full view of the legionaries-- or it would be, if they weren't so focused on that vial of blood.

“Yep,” the girl continues, “some lucky hunter got one of those feathery sonsabitches out in Zion Canyon and the minute Caesar heard about it he _had_ to have some of that blood. At least that's how the story's goin’, rumors travel fast in the Mojave Express-- almost as fast as our couriers!”

Felix takes the vial and holds it up so it catches the light. “I've never seen an angel before.”

“You and me both, pal. I hear they're terrifying-- six wings, all covered in eyes, that you can _feel_ the holy energy coming off them in waves.”

He jolts and the vial slips from his fingers but the girl dives and catches it before it shatters on the asphalt. She places it back in the box and latches it shut. “Well? Can we go in?”

The legionaries look at each other, then at Lafayette just over her shoulder, then at her again before they step aside. “You may pass,” the other legionary barks, “go directly to the tower and come directly back. Don't _try_ anything, do I make myself clear?”

She nods, her unwavering smile more radiant than ever, and skips through the gates as they creak open. “Appreciate it, friend! You're a real peach!” She winks and blows a kiss to Felix just as the guards close the gates again, Lafayette squeezing through at the last second.

“How...how'd you _do_ that?” Lafayette pops off her helmet and tucks it under her arm. “I've barely seen them let _centurions_ onto the Strip.”

The girl shrugs, still grinning. “I got a silver tongue. Always have.” She pulls down her shirt's neckline and points at her collarbone-- neon lights from the casinos dance across intricate sigils and symbols tattooed in twisting black ink, soft angles and curlicues woven between runes in a mural that extends across her chest to her shoulders and down her sternum. “These help too-- one for charm, one for luck, one _specifically_ to help persuade _men_...I got a ton.” She tosses the box up in the air and catches it behind her back. “C’mon, my guy at the Tops has been waiting for these for ages.”

Lafayette trots after her, still craning her head to take in the Strip. “You're making deliveries for the _Legion?_ ”

“Fuck no, you know what happened to the last girl that did that?”

“So the Chairmen are just...very interested in angel artifacts.”

“Nah.” She stops and opens the box again, pulling out not a vial of blood but-- a pair of spark plugs. “Electronics, on the other hand…” She smirks at Lafayette's confused stare. “Transmutation. I smuggle things around the Mojave all the time, most legionaries are too dumb to recognize magical items when they see 'em.”

Lafayette stares after her, dumbfounded. This-- this _kid_ , walking around like she _owned_ the Strip-- what the hell does she think she’s doing?! She's too cocky, far too sure she won't get caught, she…

She could be useful.

By the time Lafayette catches up the girl's already in the Tops, following a Chairman to his office. She catches Lafayette's eye and grins at her again, waving for her to follow.

The Chairman's spread the multitude of spark plugs over his desk, eyes brimming with tears. “You're a saint, baby doll, a real 18-carat broad! I could _kiss_ you for all this!”

“Oh, save it for someone who'll appreciate it, Swank.” She turns to Lafayette and nods at the spark plugs. “They found some kinda machine up in one of the suites, needed parts to repair it. Said it could help out against the Legion.”

“You're fighting the Legion too?” Lafayette locks eyes on the Chairman-- Swank.

“As we can.” He starts placing the plugs back in the box one by one. “Mostly makin’ their lives difficult for now.”

“Well if there's anything Freeside can do to help…” She offers a handshake. “Lafayette Jones. Desert Ranger.”

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Swank shakes her hand and she turns to the girl, who does the same.

“Miri St. James. Good to meet you, Ranger Jones. We're gonna make a great team.”


	38. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules gets used to being alive again and meets her extended family.

Jules clutches the warm mug tight in her hands and takes a sip of the coffee it holds. Despite the late hour Silas’ wife, Claudia, and his daughter Evangeline-- her  _ stepmother _ and her  _ half-sister _ \-- had insisted on brewing a pot, said it would help her recover from the resurrection. When Claudia and Silas hadn't been looking, Jules noticed Evangeline spiking her mug with liquor; Evie had noticed her noticing and winked mischievously before pouring more into a mug for herself. Now they're all in the living room, seated on plush chairs and couches, Silas still by her side and Claudia and Evie both watching her closely, Evie to make sure nothing went wrong with the resurrection, Claudia out of lingering suspicion.

“So, uh…” Silas is the first to speak. “How...how’ve you been, Jules?”

His stammering self-consciousness is a little endearing. Almost humble, compared with the confident, powerful persona he’d projected on the astral plane...it’s humanizing. Jules laughs a little bit and takes a sip from her mug; the liquor-- bourbon, thanks Evie-- burns the back of her throat pleasantly. “Can’t say dying again was too great, but...I guess things before that were looking up. My friend and I were on our way to confront Caesar and help bring down the Legion with her cousin but, uh, that...that didn’t end well. Obviously. Or else I wouldn’t be here.”

“Dying  _ again?! _ ” Evie scoots her chair closer. “How many times--”

“Evie!” Her father shoots her a reprimanding glare.

Jules shakes her head and tightens her grip on her mug. “It’s fine. Three times, but the first one I wasn’t entirely dead and the second I was only dead a few hours, maybe a day, I think.” She suddenly realizes she doesn’t know how long it’s been since they sneaked into the Lucky 38 and since that split second in the cell. “Um, what day is it, by the way?”

Claudia answers first, matter-of-fact. “October 19th.”

God, it’s been that long?! She’d thought it been maybe-- maybe a month or two, but  _ October?! _ The mug rattles in her hands and her pulse quickens. How could she have been dead for  _ five months?! _ That’s five months Caesar has had to shape the Mojave, five months Vulpes has had to break Lex, it’s not...it doesn’t seem  _ right, _ not at all, that  _ can’t _ be how it happened, can it?

“How much do you know about us, Jules?” Claudia’s drumming her long fingernails on her knee, watching her like a hawk. “The Bishops and Van Graffs in particular, but the whole of New Reno as well. If you don’t mind.”

_ Van Graffs _ . Jules recognizes the name, she heard it in...Freeside, that’s right. They were in Freeside, weren’t they, just down the street from the Wrangler, and--

Oh,  _ fuck _ . It’s  _ those _ Van Graffs.

“I...not a lot,” Jules starts, struggling to compose what she’s going to say. “I met a man in Novac who said you were looking for him, something about a robbery--”

“Isaac,” Claudia and Silas say in unison, with equal amounts of contempt. Evie has a look of pure disgust on her face as she drains half the contents of her mug.

“He still in Novac?” Silas adds, back to the character she’d first met, and Jules shakes her head no.

“He went to the Strip, if the Legion didn’t shut down the acts at the Tops he’ll be performing there.”

Claudia wrinkles her nose. “I’ll have Oliver project over there tomorrow, see if we can find him. If he’s there we’ll need to get him back here.”

“If he’s a problem the Legion might have dealt with him already. They aren’t exactly forgiving.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, Jules knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Already the Bishops seem like the type who don’t like changes to their carefully-laid plans; this Isaac fellow skipping town had apparently done just that and being told he might not be  _ available _ to learn the lesson they intended for him just adds a further wrench.

Claudia fixes her gaze tighter on her. “Is that all?”

Jules hesitates, then nods slowly with another drink of coffee. “You’re not...you’re not very well known in the Mojave. Not yet, at least. We’ve been a little preoccupied with the war and everything, California coming in from the west, the Legion from the east, no one’s even thought to look north, and…” She trails off, looking away sheepishly into her mug. Claudia’s eyes haven’t softened; she’s certain she doesn’t believe her.

“Well. You have a lot to learn, then.” Claudia glances up at the grandfather clock over her husband’s shoulder. “It’s late now, we can start in the morning. I’m sure you’re tired, and having a few hours’ rest will put us all in a better position to handle this.”

Her words cut at Jules, leaving her watching, confused, as Claudia heads upstairs. She hasn’t done anything to merit hostility, has she? Not that she isn’t glad to be alive again but that hadn’t been  _ her _ choice; it was her father’s, and if Claudia is taking issue with it shouldn’t that be something the two of  _ them _ discuss before she takes it out on Jules?

Evie stands to leave as well, holding out her hand for Jules’ mug. “I can take you around tomorrow, if you want. Maybe find you something to wear that isn’t so bloodstained?” Her eyes scan over Jules’ face, reading her still somewhat vacant expression, lingering on her just a bit too long before meeting her eyes again and offering a small smile.

“Yeah, that sounds...that sounds nice, thank you.” Jules hands over the mug and curls her legs up under her on the couch. Evie pads off to the kitchen, then upstairs herself with one last, soft “Goodnight, Dad” to her father, leaving just the two of them alone in the living room, the ticking clock the only sound.

She and Silas can’t even look at each other; neither knows what to say. What  _ can _ be said, after finding out about the father you never knew, resurrecting the daughter you didn’t know you had? So much, so much, an entire  _ lifetime _ each needs to catch the other up on. He coughs and shifts a little bit, first resting his arm on the couch back, then down by his side, then back on the couch again.

“Your wife always like that?” Jules finally says, her voice low to ensure Claudia won’t overhear.

“Like wh-- oh.” He looks somewhat embarrassed. “No, she’s just...she’s cautious, she’s done a lot to get us where we are an’ she don’t…”

“She doesn’t want me here.”

“She’s just bein’ careful. You’re welcome here--  _ I _ want you here, Jules.”

Their eyes meet again, Jules with skepticism, Silas  _ needing _ her to believe him. At last she nods, just once, and turns towards him so they’re fully facing each other. “She doesn’t have to worry about me, I’m not going to cause any trouble for you. Done more than enough of my share of that.”

“I’m sure. A person don’t just get killed three times for nothin’, right?”

“...Right.” She knows exactly what he’s going to ask next. It won’t be any easier if he asks it now or weeks later, probably best to get it out of the way.

“What  _ did _ you do to get that kinda treatment, Julesy?” Silas sounds equal parts concerned for her and defensive of her. Like if she told him the truth, the whole story, he’d go and fight Caesar himself for her sake-- and being a  _ real _ demigod, he could probably actually do something.

Still, she doesn’t answer right away, and when she does, it’s only a fragment. “I didn’t  _ do _ anything to get shot. I was just...I had a package to deliver, I used to run routes for the Mojave Express every so often just to make some extra caps, you know. And some asshole from the Strip caught wind of one of my deliveries and tried to kill me for it.” She watches him for any sign he recognizes the details of her story, but he’s unreadable. “And, um...turns out Caesar’s Legion isn’t exactly  _ fond _ of witches. They burned me at the stake a few months ago.”

“An’ then your friend--”

“Yeah, the vampire thing.” Out of habit, her hand reaches up to touch where the gash in her neck had been. It’s still more sensitive to the touch after the rest of her skin has calmed down, raised and textured so she can trace over and pinpoint the exact places where Lex’s fangs had sunk in. Vulpes’ hatred and treachery are written on her body forever, ensuring his enduring memory no matter what happens to either of them.

Silas notices the distress come across her face and reaches out for a comforting pat on her shoulder, but she tenses at the touch, negating any effect he’d hoped to have. Immediately after making it back to the mortal plane she’d been so overwhelmed and struggling to take it all in that their embrace had barely registered, and by the time it did she was able to break it without making a big deal out of it. Her old aversions have resurfaced quickly, it seems.

He draws his hand back and rests it on the back of the couch again. After a cough and more silence, he tries to shift the subject to something Jules suspects he thinks will be more pleasant but instead opens up that pit in her stomach again: “How’s...how’s your mama doin’ these days?”

_ He doesn’t know. _

Then,  _ Of  _ **_course_ ** _ he doesn’t know, Jules, he didn’t even know you  _ **_existed_ ** _ for twenty-four years; why would he know this? _

“She--” Her voice catches. What happened to her mother, at least the barebones story, isn’t exactly a secret with the company she’s been keeping but that doesn’t make it any easier. “She died a few months before I turned nineteen. Right after my eighteenth birthday she got really sick, and no matter what we did it just kept getting worse until one day she was just…” Jules waves one hand and rests her head on the other. She’s told this much to several people-- Chavez,  _ Vulpes _ , Lex-- but never beyond. But Silas...Silas deserves more than that. He’s her  _ father _ .

The impact of her words breaks Silas’ unreadable facade; he looks as though she’s landed a physical blow on him. “ _ Dead? _ ...How, what  _ happened? _ ” His fingers start to curl into a fist. Must think she was killed by gang members or soldiers or someone, something  _ tangible _ he could take action against, punish for bringing harm on his old flame and causing so much pain for their child.

Jules takes a deep breath. “A tumor. A  _ demon _ tumor. She didn’t tell me the truth until she was almost on her deathbed. We tried everything, every spell I knew, everything the Followers of the Apocalypse could do, but…” Tears blur her vision as her voice thins and wavers. “She told me she made a  _ deal _ , a month after she found out she was pregnant. She knew how much trouble she was in and how dangerous  _ anyone _ being associated with you in New Reno was, so she bargained for her family’s protection after she ran away.”

A few tears escape at the memories. “She wanted to keep them safe from anyone who might want to get to you through her. And she wanted to keep me safe from…”

“From me and my family?” Silas asks hoarsely, his own eyes reddening and starting to water.

“From anything trying to get to you through us. At least that’s what she said. I don’t know if I believe her anymore, but...” Both hands are covering Jules’ face now as she curls in on herself. “She never told me you’re a demigod, she just...always said you were dangerous. That it was better we didn’t have contact with you and that we were far away from New Reno.” She can’t believe she never pressed harder; there had been times when she’d asked about her father, sure, but Eliza’s answers had always been terse, conveying her reluctance to discuss the subject further.

Jules looks up at her father again. “She sold her  _ soul _ for me. I saw...when she died, I saw the demon that held her contract.”

Silas’ inhalation is sharp and audible, but he doesn’t say anything.

“It showed up right after she died. Looked like a shadow, or a cloud or something, with these glowing red eyes that just  _ watched _ me. It left after a few seconds, but…” She shudders in lieu of finishing her sentence.

“God, Jules.” Silas wipes his eyes clear with his thumb. “I’m sorry-- I’m so sorry, I should’a been there for both of you, it wouldn’ta...she wouldn’ta had to do that, I would’a taken care of you.”

She shrugs. What chance did a couple of teenagers have against whatever forces her mother feared so much, even when one of them was half-god? Not to mention they couldn’t have raised her themselves, not young as they were. What could they have done?

“I’m so sorry, Jules,” he says again, “I wish I’d known…”

The only answer she can muster is a quiet “Yeah” before they lapse into silence. After a moment Jules pushes herself off the couch and starts for the stairs.

“You okay, Julesy?”

“Yeah, I just...I’m just really tired.” ‘Eternal rest,’ for her at least, had been neither.

Silas nods and follows, turning out the lights behind him. “There’s a spare room already made up, all the way at the end of the hall across from Evie’s room. Come an’ get me if you need somethin’, okay?”

“...Okay.” Jules hesitates at the top of the stairs and looks up at him. “Thanks, Silas. Really. It’s not enough, but thank you, I mean it.”

He smiles. “You’re part of the family, Julesy. An’ you’re gonna find out just how good that makes things for you here.”


	39. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes has some Less pleasant dreams.

Sunlight slips under the heavy canvas of Vulpes’ tent but he can’t get to sleep. It’s hours after sunrise, probably around midday by now, and he’s been wide awake ever since he and Jessie set up camp. She’d probably say it’s out of remorse. Guilt for his sins. He’s convinced it’s more along the lines of the ghoul he’d eaten out of desperation; under his command Jessie had not partaken, but she was currently fast asleep, so she’d won this round, hadn’t she.

There’s a noise outside. Well, rather, it’s the continuation of a noise, scratching and pawing and sniffing that’s been going on near constantly since sunrise. Animals tend to stay away from them but occasionally there have been a few more intrepid ones that ended up as their dinner. This, though...this doesn’t sound like mole rats or ants or even deathclaws. Those footsteps he knows well, he can recall their scents perfectly, but this is different. Too many steps, too heavy. The smell rotten and poisonous, a wet slopping noise grating against his nerves.

Vulpes sighs and pull his goggles over his eyes to peek outside. Whatever it is needs to  _ stop _ ; he’s  _ trying _ to sleep, for once in his damned post-life he’d like that to be  _ uninterrupted _ by--

It’s one of  _ those _ things. The head and torso of a man, covered in tumors, three long tongues whipping around feeling for their scent as it scrabbles around on six hands. Oh  _ gods _ , why was it  _ here?! _ They’re only supposed to be seen around radiation, aren’t they, and their camp is nowhere  _ near _ any nuclear waste or bomb sites-- Jessie needs to handle this, snap its neck so he doesn’t have to touch that  _ thing-- _

No. He’s  _ stronger _ than her, he has to be. He can handle this  _ himself _ .

Vulpes ducks back inside to get his cowl and a coat to cover the skin on his arms left bare by his tunic and armor, but as he’s opening the tent to slip outside with a rifle the noises stop and the smell of rotting meat is gone, abruptly, with nothing to replace it. A chill runs down his spine. Do those... _ things _ have the ability to teleport now? Or did something worse, incapable of being detected even by him, come and get rid of it before he could?

He buttons the coat before cautiously nudging the tent flap open with the rifle nose. 

Nothing’s out there. His stomach turns again.

Vulpes moves outside, keeping all his weight on the balls of his feet to step as quietly as he can in case  _ whatever _ is still out there waiting for him. Nothing so far. No sounds, no scents. Jessie’s still sleeping silently.

To the left-- nothing. To the right-- nothing. It’s eerily quiet and still, not even a breeze disturbing the sand.

He ventures out of the shadow cast by the tents; that thing has to be out here somewhere doesn’t it? He looks back over his shoulders, first left, then right, and as he takes another few steps forward he’s met with a new sound breaking the silence: that of his own skin sizzling and popping, accompanied by an acrid burning and a searing sensation over his entire body.

Vulpes yelps and drops the gun and jumps back into the safety of the shade but it doesn’t stop, hands on fire, skin bubbling and blackening and the weight of fabric against his skin is too much, he’s an open wound, entire body screaming, the same tearing high and agonizing from his throat. Gasping, he drags himself back inside the tent and yanks the coat off, desperate for it to stop-- he’s  _ safe _ , he’s  _ out _ of the sun, it shouldn’t keep going like this, this isn’t what he remembers it being like-- was he  _ cursed? _ Did someone-- did his cousin  _ curse _ him?!  _ Gods _ , that would be just like her, wouldn’t it?!

The fire’s out but he’s still burning, panting for breath, for the first time in years  _ scared _ . This pain, he hasn’t felt it since he turned, and he doesn’t remember it  _ lasting _ this long. The sunburn never lingered, it always faded as soon as he was away, it was never this bad-- he looks down at his hands and he can see the burnt flesh spreading, all the way up his arms, he can feel it engulfing his face, searing away his lips and brows and eating his nose--

Just before his eyes are burned away he looks up and sees her. The Courier, standing above him,  _ in _ his tent, lightning arcing between her fingers, blood-red lips parting in one last triumphant smile as she waves him goodbye.

As soon as Vulpes’ vision goes black his eyes snap open again to the red canvas of the tent above him. He’s... _ breathing _ , heavily; he  _ never _ has to breathe anymore and rarely does, until this  _ nightmare. _ Carefully, he pushes himself up to sit forward-- it’s not sunlight flowing under the tent flap anymore but moonlight, pale and cool, and he sighs with relief. Thank  _ god _ .

He dons his cowl and armor and throws open the flap to Jessie’s tent. She’s already awake, to his chagrin. “Tell your  _ friend _ to leave me alone. I’m not the one who drank her blood.”

“Jules find her way back from th’ afterlife again?” Jessie gives him a fanged grin. “Cryin’ shame, that.”

“She’s  _ banished _ . Nothing short of a  _ god _ could bring her back, not without her body and her blood. Which you, conveniently, took care of. She’s  _ gone _ , Jessie. For good.”

“Then what’s yer  _ problem _ , Artie?”

“She--” No. He  _ won’t _ tell her after all. His nightmares are none of her concern; they’ll only show his  _ weakness _ . “Never mind.”

“She  _ hauntin’ _ you, Artie?”

“She’s  _ gone _ .”

“You  _ dreamin’ _ ‘bout ‘er?”

“Drop it.”

“Feelin’ guilty? Regrettin’ what y’did?” She scoffs and stands, shoving her effects into her pack. “No, y’wouldn’t, would ya? Only thing  _ you _ regret is bringin’ harm on  _ yerself _ .”

“ _ Enough _ .” Vulpes kicks over the tentpole closest to him, bringing canvas down on Jessie as he turns and steps back. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

“Suit yerself.”

He stalks away to pack up his own gear and makes quick work of it. The dream still lingers in his mind; it makes him wonder...has the Courier somehow found her way back from the ethereal plane? The banishment ritual should keep her there, even prevent her from projecting into his or  _ anyone’s _ dreams. He’d done the ritual himself; he  _ knows _ it was done right. It has to be  _ just _ a dream, it has to be, but he doesn’t know which would be worse: the Courier escaping her confines or the fact that he’s dreaming about her with no other cause than his own subconscious.


	40. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot actually starts to fucking move when Lex pays a visit to the Monster of the East and discovers some important facts regarding Jules.

Underwear, bra, socks, pants… Lex pointed all her attention towards her clothes, redressing in her regrettably familiar ritual, near the lamp where her garments usually ended up, bathed in the faint pool of light the centuries-old fixture gave off. Despite how much she wanted to dive into nothing but the feel of the denim she was pulling up her legs, she still _knew_ his eyes were on her.

“Jesus Christ, he’s really not feeding you, is he?”

A beat. And then Lex reached for her shirt, starting to put it on.

“This can’t be the first time you’ve noticed.” Lex said flatly, starting to button up her shirt.

“Well _obviously_ not, but this is just _excessive_. Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?”

Lex turned around, giving Caesar a narrow-eyed, unenthused glare as she finished buttoning her shirt.

He laughed, a haughty smile on his face.

“Oh, that’s right. You _can’t_ . House’s tastes were too _expensive_ for anything other than silver-backed mirrors. Have to wonder if that was purposeful or if he just enjoyed being gaudy _that_ much.”

Lex shook her head, turning back around and tucking in her shirt before grabbing her belt to thread in her pants loops.

“Well,” Caesar started again, “either way, you look more _dead_ than usual. And you _act_ like it too. I don’t _like it_.”

She finished buckling her belt, grabbing her gloves next and slipping her hands into them before finally grabbing her hooded coat to put on.

“ _Well_ ,” Lex answered back, “I’m multitasking a lot more now. Takes a lot more thought to do _anything_ when all I can think ‘bout is tearin’ open your throat.”

With a flourish, she flicked up her hood, casting her face into shadow, and then glanced back at Caesar. He just frowned, tapping his fingers aimlessly against the sheets of the bed.

“Then it’s time for this foolishness to _stop_ . Whatever Vulpes is attempting with this, obviously it’s _not working_ . When he fetches you, tell him I want a _word_ with him. Are we clear?”

Lex nodded.

“Yes, My Lord.”

She slipped on her boots, tying them quickly, and as she turned to leave the room, a short breath escaped from her, her throat aching as the thought of a red, torn, pulsing throat flashed through her mind.

Sure enough, outside, her cousin was waiting for her, stone-faced as ever. Lex smiled at him.

“Hey, ‘cuz. _Caesar_ wants to see you.”

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Down below the cliff, far off, the twinkling stars were mirrored by a wash of distant, flickering fires, and the bright pops of muzzle flashes. She was _late_. So much for her cousin’s intel.

Lexington pushed off the edge of the cliff, with what felt like a small tap from her heel sending her several feet over its edge, falling down towards the rocky slope it curved into below, where her feet caught its edge and she slid down its steep, crumbling side, further towards the bottom of the mountainside. With Jacobstown fallen, there was nothing stopping them from advancing further towards Shady Sands, Indian Springs as their next target--well, _current_ target.

She had been tasked with infiltrating the town before the Legate’s forces laid siege, helping them find its weak points to press to break their line of defense--a much easier mission with a _slaked thirst_ . Lex grimaced at the thought--even with his authority undermined, her cousin didn’t make this… _easy_ for her. She clenched her fists as the face of the slave he had dragged forward for her to _drink_ flashed across her mind again--a young woman, with short blonde hair. A purposeful parallel to _Jules_ …

 _“I know it can’t compare to the_ **_heavenly_ ** _witch’s blood that you drained from your_ **_friend_ ** _, but hopefully this wretched slave is enough of an approximation of her to remind you of the_ **_taste_ ** _.”_

Her cousin’s mocking words reminded her of a truth she loathed--he was _right_ . Nothing did compare to how Jules had _tasted_ … no other feeding barely scraped the relief and satisfaction that Jules had given her… a terrible last memento of her mortal life…

Lex let out a deep breath. How many innocents had she been forced to kill? Too many for her to possibly linger on every single one… still, she had asked Arcade to pray for that slave....

She kept on towards the fires at a steady, speedy pace, wondering what had inspired the Legate to begin the siege without frumentarii intel. The flames on the horizon glowed like a false dusk, the rest of the flat desert bathed in the bright glow of the half-moon. Even before she was a vampire, desert nights were clear; cloudless skies and clean air letting the moon’s rays light the brush and scattered joshua trees--but now? With her vampire eyes, she likened the landscape to what her human eyes had seen during the day--bright, lit, vivid, but colder and quieter in the night. Actual daylight was a stunning glare, making the dry dirt a glowing ocean made visible only under thick, dark shades that she had to don. Those shades were in her pocket now as she flew across the landscape on foot, spotting in the distance a Legion patrol, standard to protect the Legion camp’s flank. It was child’s play to approach them without notice, inhuman precision rendering her steps silent. She took her mark of Caesar out from her pocket, holding it up before getting their attention--

“Halt, I bear the mark of Caesar, answer to me.”

She saw them jump, startled at her sudden booming voice, whipping around with guns and machetes raised to see her and the mark shining in the moonlight.

“Who goes there?? Name yourself!!” the veteran Legionary amongst them shouted at her.

“I am sent by the frumentarii, as my mark proves. What is the status of Indian Springs?”

The Legionaries shifted around at the mention of Caesar’s spies, surely noticing now the inhuman way her eyes reflected back at them like a cat’s, watching her mouth closely as she spoke to catch brief hints of the fangs under her lips. She could hear them tense, grips on their weapons tightening as their pulse raced up just a notch. As much of an abomination and unholy creature of the night she was, at the very _least_ , she enjoyed the terror she now struck in near-everyone, and just how well she could sense that fear _viscerally_.

The veteran stepped forward, addressing her more directly now--

“At dusk the Legate gave order to begin the siege.”

“And?” Lex pressed.

The Legionary took a deep breath, in what Lex assumed was an attempt to steel himself and maintain his air of composure. Perhaps to his men it appeared to work, but she could still hear his speeding heartbeat.

“We are under orders to bring any frumentarii to the Legate himself.”

“Hmm.” Lex crossed her arms, tilting her head a little, “And what would the Legate himself have to say to me?”

“We are just under _orders_. That is not for us to answer. Come with me now, I will escort you to camp.”

Lex narrowed her eyes for a moment, then shrugged, returning her mark to her coat and walking towards the veteran Legionary.

“Take me, then.”

“Follow me.”

She followed the Legionary, who nodded to the rest of his men as they continued their patrol, their relief palpable to be freed of Lex’s presence. The veteran wasn’t as relieved, of course. Lex trailed just behind him, his human pace absolutely glacial compared to the speeds she had been traveling. The desert night’s deathly silence continued--well, as silent as things could be to Lex these days. She still heard the faintest traces of wind, heard the dirt crunch beneath their boots, heard every little bug and critter skittering around in the dry brush--and the distant pops of gunfire echoing through the landscape.

The Legionary was purposefully staying very straight ahead of her. Any attempts of hers to come nearer, he spend up, doing his best to keep his eyes as averted from her as possible, probably in an attempt to avoid any possible charming. Unfortunately for him, that wouldn’t stop _Lex._ Once they had made their way far enough from his patrol for their human senses to no longer catch them, Lex took her focus, sharpening it and spinning it out into a long, sharp needle that she plunged into the back of the Legionary’s head, immediately freezing him in place as her will dug into his mind.

Low, smooth, she spoke--

“Why does the Legate wish to speak with me? What is the true status of Indian Springs?”

Without even turning to face her, the Legionary immediately began to drone out an answer,

“I do not know, but the Legate began the siege earlier than planned, and now we are locked with the enemy’s forces, the frontlines stationary since an hour after the siege started.”

“Do you really believe the siege will be complete by sunset tomorrow?”

“That is what the Legate has said, but I know not his strategy to achieve this.”

“Hm. Alright. Continue on. We _never_ spoke.”

Lex withdraw her grasp on him, seeing his body slack as she slid out the sharp pierce of her will. After a disoriented moment, he continued on, almost tripping on a few rocks that to Lex’s vampire eyes were obvious in the moonlight. They walked on wordlessly, the torches and bustle of the Legion camp ahead of them growing closer.

This siege was a curious thing, for sure, Lex thought. Why would the Legate rush in early, if only for a standstill? This was a fairly standard Legion tactic--send in the frumentarii (in this case, _her_ ) to find the weaknesses of the enemy forces, create openings, and report back to the invasion forces, letting them surgically dismantle their foes. And yet, the Legate had skipped this, sending in his army, seemingly unprepared.

Well, Lex figured she was going to find out the Legate’s reasoning in person. Or better yet, insult him somehow and get immediately _murdered_ . She’d heard he was temperamental like that, but she had never met him in person before to confirm. Whatever awaited her, she honestly didn’t know--the rumors about the Legate were numerous and grandiose. Officially, according to Caesar, he was an emissary of the god Mars himself, but Lex doubted that. The Legion didn’t worship Mars, it worshipped _Caesar_ , so the chances of Mars giving such a lovely gift was slim to none. Less official rumors claimed the Legate was a demon possessing a suit of armor, and others still said he was a vengeful angel of some sort. There was always the chance the Legate was just a _man_ , granted, large and strong, perhaps just a particularly menacing warlock, but a man nonetheless.  

Either way, she’d discover the truth soon.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“Wait here, _thrall_.”

The centurion that had escorted her to the inner part of the camp left without another word, leaving her in front of a smaller tent connected to a larger tent, a central structure ringed with cautious empty space before the rest of the camp continued around it. Lex could feel why everyone kept their distance--already she could feel the uncomfortable prickle of… _something_ . Like static, or sparks against skin. She felt it in the air--there was something _heavier_ about it near the tent.

Her discomfort was broken when two slaves exited the small tent--both blindfolded. Wordlessly, they reached for her, gently grabbing her arms and ushering her into the small tent. A single candle lit the space, and she could see several beds and other effects in it--must’ve been where these slaves were _kept_. They let go of her, and motioned her towards the entrance to the larger tent.

The prickling was more intense now, making her skin crawl, but she went forward anyway, slipping through the tent’s flap and into the larger space.

An intense, searing wave of energy blanketed Lex, almost paralyzing her--she recognized the feeling, it was the same as when neared a crucifix, but a hundred times _worse_. Before her, the tent was ringed with candles, sigils of various holy elements covering the tent walls, all converging towards the center, where the back of an enormous set of shining armor etched with even more sigils faced Lex. Slowly, deliberately, the armor turned towards her, and she saw that it was indeed the Legate, Lanius.

His armor was intricate, and through her shock she tried to make out what some of the sigils were--containment sigils…? She inhaled sharply, and tasted the _silver_ in the air, and realized it was from the _armor_ \--shit, it was _made_ of _silver_. She thought perhaps to try and utter out some sort of greeting, but instead remained still, waiting for the Legate to speak.

“ＹＯＵ， ＡＮ ＵＮＨＯＬＹ ＣＲＥＡＴＵＲＥ ＯＦ ＤＡＲＫＮＥＳＳ， ＣＵＲＳＥＤ ＴＯ ＥＸＩＳＴ

ＩＮ ＤＥＡＴＨ ＷＩＴＨＩＮ ＴＨＥ ＭＯＲＴＡＬ ＰＬＡＮＥ，

ＷＨＯ ＳＥＲＶＥＳ ＴＨＥ ＭＡＳＴＥＲ ＯＦ ＤＥＣＥＰＴＩＯＮ ＢＹ ＢＯＮＤ ＯＦ ＢＬＯＯＤ，

Ｉ ＨＡＶＥ ＮＥＥＤ ＯＦ ＹＯＵ．”

Every word shook her to her bone, echoing in her body like nails shook in a can. With a great push of her will, she forced her lips to form an answer to him.

“How… may I serve you…?”

Still as a statue, Legate Lanius boomed on--

“ＹＯＵＲ ＭＡＳＴＥＲ ＥＸＩＳＴＳ ＩＮ ＰＵＲＥ ＳＩＮ ＡＮＤ ＢＲＩＮＧＳ ＳＨＡＭＥ ＴＯ ＴＨＩＳ ＬＥＧＩＯＮ．

ＨＥ ＡＮＤ ＨＩＳ ＴＨＲＡＬＬＳ ＡＲＥ Ａ ＭＯＣＫＥＲＹ ＯＦ ＴＨＥ ＨＯＬＹ ＢＡＴＴＬＥ ＰＡＲＴＡＫＥＮ ＨＥＲＥ．

ＬＩＦＥ ＡＮＤ ＤＥＡＴＨ ＡＲＥ ＳＡＣＲＥＤ ＦＯＲＣＥＳ，

ＴＨＵＳＬＹ ＳＯ ＴＨＥ ＣＹＣＬＥ ＢＥＴＷＥＥＮ ＴＨＥＭ．

ＨＥ ＡＮＤ ＨＩＳ ＩＬＫ ＡＲＥ ＣＲＥＡＴＵＲＥＳ ＯＦ ＳＵＣＨ ＳＩＮＦＵＬ ＨＵＢＲＩＳ

ＴＯ ＢＥＬＩＥＶＥ ＴＨＥＹ ＡＲＥ ＦＲＥＥ ＯＦ ＴＨＩＳ ＨＯＬＹ ＳＴＲＵＧＧＬＥ．”

Lex narrowed her eyes, trying to follow the Legate’s logic.

“Well… yeah.”

“ＡＳ ＳＵＣＨ， Ｉ ＴＩＲＥ ＯＦ ＨＩＳ ＴＲＩＣＫＥＲＹ．

ＹＥＴ ＬＯＲＤ ＣＡＥＳＡＲ ＣＯＮＴＩＮＵＥＳ ＴＯ ＩＮＤＵＬＧＥ ＨＩＭ， ＥＶＥＮ ＷＨＥＮ ＨＩＳ ＡＢＵＳＥＳ ＩＮＣＲＥＡＳＥ．

ＨＥ ＷＡＳＴＥＳ ＨＩＳ ＴＨＲＡＬＬＳ ＯＮ ＴＨＥ ＣＲＩＭＥＳ ＯＦ ＳＵＢＴＥＲＦＵＧＥ．

ＤＥＣＥＰＴＩＯＮ ＴＡＲＮＩＳＨＥＳ ＴＨＥ ＰＵＲＩＴＹ ＯＦ ＴＨＥ ＦＲＯＮＴ ＬＩＮＥＳ

ＡＮＤ Ｉ ＷＩＬＬ ＮＯ ＬＯＮＧＥＲ ＴＯＬＥＲＡＴＥ ＩＴ．

ＴＨＵＳＬＹ， Ｉ ＣＯＭＭＡＮＤ ＹＯＵ ＩＮＴＯ ＢＡＴＴＬＥ．”

Lex’s brows furrowed as she parsed out Lanius’s intent.

“What… do you wish me… to do....?”

“ＹＯＵ ＷＩＬＬ ＤＯ ＷＨＡＴ ＹＯＵ ＷＥＲＥ ＢＯＲＮ ＦＯＲ． ＹＯＵ ＷＩＬＬ ＦＩＧＨＴ．

ＯＮＣＥ ＹＯＵ ＷＥＲＥ Ａ ＰＥＲＦＥＣＴ ＷＥＡＰＯＮ ＯＦ ＷＡＲ，

ＦＯＲＧＥＤ ＩＮ ＣＯＭＢＡＴ ＷＩＴＨ ＢＬＯＯＤ，

Ａ ＰＵＲＥ ＥＸＡＭＰＬＥ ＯＦ ＴＨＥ ＢＡＬＡＮＣＥ ＢＥＴＷＥＥＮ ＬＩＦＥ ＡＮＤ ＤＥＡＴＨ．

ＶＵＬＰＥＳ ＩＮＣＵＬＴＡ ＩＮＳＵＬＴＳ ＭＥ ＢＹ ＤＥＦＩＬＩＮＧ ＹＯＵ ＷＩＴＨ ＵＮＤＥＡＴＨ，

ＢＵＴ ＷＨＩＬＥ ＹＯＵ ＡＲＥ ＨＥＲＥ ＢＥＦＯＲＥ ＭＥ，

Ｉ ＳＨＡＬＬ ＳＥＴ ＹＯＵ ＯＮ ＹＯＵＲ ＧＯＤ－ＧＩＶＥＮ ＰＡＴＨ．”

A perfect weapon of war… he was right, wasn’t he? And now, look at what she had been reduced to--a _slave_. Lex grimaced, a bitter feeling biting through the unyielding holy pressure that Lanius exuded.

“I’ll do whatever you want… anything but _Vulpes Inculta’s_ orders. I… I _hate_ him.”

Lex’s hands balled tightly into fists, a corrosive, burning sensation bubbling up in her core as she began to tremble. She stared straight at the false eyes on Lanius’s mask, teeth clenched, fangs bared--

“You… you _understand_ , don’t you? You _understand_ what he _took_ from me _??_ I’ve--I took _so many_ lives, because--because it was **_war_ ** , because I _had_ to--I did it so I could _live,_ so others could _live_ \--that’s all I wanted, that’s all I ever wanted--to make sure there could be **_life_ ** . And he turned me into this, this _beast_ , before I could ever have a chance to _create_ any…”

She grimaced, blinking away the start of tears from her eyes, keeping her face dry and stony.

Lanius remained still, looming over her, unchanged and unmoved by any display of hers.

“ＹＯＵ ＷＥＲＥ ＯＮＣＥ Ａ ＴＲＵＥ ＣＨＩＬＤ ＯＦ ＷＡＲ．

ＦＯＲ ＴＨＩＳ， ＡＮＤ ＯＮＥ ＯＴＨＥＲ ＲＥＡＳＯＮ，

Ｉ ＥＮＴＲＵＳＴ ＹＯＵ ＷＩＴＨ Ａ ＮＥＷ ＭＩＳＳＩＯＮ．

ＧＯ ＦＯＲＴＨ ＡＮＤ ＫＩＬＬ．

ＴＵＲＮ Ａ ＳＩＥＧＥ ＩＮＴＯ Ａ ＤＥＬＵＧＥ ＯＦ ＤＥＡＴＨ ＡＮＤ ＢＬＯＯＤ．

ＭＹ ＭＥＮ ＳＨＡＬＬ ＦＯＬＬＯＷ ＩＮ ＹＯＵＲ ＢＬＯＯＤＩＥＤ ＷＡＫＥ．”

Lex nodded, growling through her clenched teeth--

“Yes, _yes_ , I shall.”

She paused briefly, her snarl softening as she asked him one last thing.

“What's the… _other_ reason…?”

For the first time, _Lanius_ paused, somehow making his next words boom through Lex even harder than the others,

“ＴＨＥ ＲＥＡＳＯＮ， ＵＮＨＯＬＹ ＯＮＥ， ＩＳ ＴＨＡＴ ＤＥＳＰＩＴＥ ＴＨＥ ＤＡＲＫＮＥＳＳ

ＹＯＵ ＨＡＶＥ ＢＥＥＮ ＣＡＳＴ ＩＮＴＯ，

ＡＭＯＮＧＳＴ ＴＨＩＳ ＬＥＧＩＯＮ ＯＦ ＳＩＮＮＥＲＳ，

ＹＯＵ ＡＲＥ ＯＮＥ ＯＦ ＴＨＥ ＦＥＷ ＬＥＦＴ

ＷＩＴＨ ＧＯＤ ＩＮ ＴＨＥＩＲ ＨＥＡＲＴ **.** ”

The pressure, the crushing holiness that was burning and grating all across Lex, it was proof enough of _that_ . She _knew_ what she was and she never recoiled from God’s influence… she might have been distanced from The Lord, but Lanius was correct again… God could _never_ be taken from her heart.  

“Yes…” she whispered, even the small word aching on her lips under the burning holy atmosphere.

Lanius reached forward a hand with two fingers, tapping her forehead, her chest, and her shoulders in the shape of the cross, instantly wracking her body with a sharp, searing wave of pain that tore at her every fiber of being so intensely that she barely noticed the burning of where his silver fingertips had touched her pale skin. The air knocked out of her and her legs wobbled, but she stayed upright, quickly steadying herself and steeling her cursed body against the agony coursing through it.

“ＧＯ ＦＯＲＴＨ， ＡＮＤ ＫＩＬＬ．”

She nodded slowly at him one last time before wrenching her muscles away to turn herself around, exiting the tent, immediately feeling the holy weight on her lessen. She let out a breath without realizing how tensely she had been holding it in. The blinded slaves gathered around her once more, shepherding her towards the smaller tent’s exit as she felt numb and her body buzzed.

After the candlelit tent, the moonlight was a bright shock as she stepped out into the night air.

  
So... _that_ was the Legatus Lanius.

It seemed at least _one_ of the rumors was correct… he was indeed _holy_ , VERY holy, perhaps some high order of angel, with the level of containment sigils around him and the energy he exuded. Lex lightly ran her hand over her forehead, fingertips grazing the edge of the bleeding silver burn his fingers had left. Touched by the divine…

Heavenly. _Heavenly…_

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“ARCADE!!”

Lex burst through the doors into his room, immediately charming his guards and making them deaf to the world, turning them against the room’s walls as per the usual. The past few days had been ones of reflection, but throughout them all the memory of Lanius’s holy sting pervaded--a common thread suddenly linking together what Lex now chastised herself as the _obvious_.

“Jess! What’s--”

He was cut off as Lex ran over, dumping several large candles and other effects into his arms.

“--Hold these while I draw the sigils.”

She immediately withdrew a large chunk of charcoal from one of her pockets and fell to her knees, scoping out enough space on the floor for the complex enchantments she was about to write. _Holy…_ Holy!! How did she not see it before?? At every moment her cousin could, taunting her about it, about _Jules_ , about the _divine_...

“ _Sigils??_ What sigils?” Arcade asked back, gently setting down his arms’ contents onto a tabletop near him.

“--Sigils for _astral projection_ . I need you to watch me and make sure to tug me back to this plane when I’m done.” Lex fervently answered, already scrawling a large circle and several runes with the piece of charcoal onto the room’s red carpet. If she were right, it would’ve explained everything strange with Jules--her _taste_ , her _resilience_ as a ghost, her incredible skill with magic...

“ _Astral projection??_ Why? Jess, what is--”

“-- _Jules_.” Lex interjected, stopping to turn and smile her rare, sharp smile at him.

“I know where she is, and if I’m right about her, she’s our **_divine_** _ticket out of here._ ”


	41. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas starts to show his daughter around town.

“You ready to see the sights, Julesy?” She ducks away from the arm Silas throws around her shoulders but nods, scratching her left wrist. She's been jumpy and twitchy all day as she's tried to settle in, uneasy around the family as she is in the crimson skirt Evie let her borrow. “You okay?”

Jules nods again and tugs at the bottom of her black sweater-- another loaner from Evie-- until it meets the waist of the skirt, but as soon as she moves again it rides back up, exposing the end of a pale line curving from what looks like the top of a tattoo up the right side of her stomach. “What kind of clothes does your daughter  _ wear? _ This is ridiculous.”

“Hell if I know. Makes her happy, though, so we just smile and nod and let her do it.” Silas shrugs. “What happened there, that from the first time you…”

“Oh-- that? No, no.” Jules hastily angles the scar away from him and looks up, her cheeks tinging pink. “Old surgery scar, had to get my appendix out when I was twelve and Nipton doctors sucked so, you know, not very good at not leaving a scar, it's no big deal, honest.” A smile cracks her face, just a bit. “Besides, first time I died I was shot in the head. Pay attention, Silas.”

“You think I don’t remember things about you? I'm  _ hurt _ , Julesy.” His mock offense earns him a short burst of laughter and he opens the door to lead her outside.

New Reno is no New Vegas, but at least it doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is. On Silas’ admittedly few trips to the Mojave he'd felt the same familiar-- and somewhat comforting-- unease from the dark magical undercurrents in Vegas that he did at home, but with the stark difference of no one acknowledging it. What Vegas ignores Reno embraces with wide-open arms and a knife up its sleeve-- just in case.

Silas reads the discomfort on  _ his daughter's _ face and nudges her with a gentle elbow. “I know-- you get used to it.”

She squirms and crosses her arms across her torso. “What  _ is _ it? Reminds me of Nipton, almost, but less  _ dead _ .”

“Honest? I dunno what it is. Just know it's real unsettling-- no matter where I been I only felt it one other place.”

“Vegas.” They cross a street and Jules suppresses a shiver. “It wasn't this bad, though, not when I was there. How do people live here?”

“I don't think most of 'em even notice. Either that or they been livin’ with it for so long it's not a problem anymore.” Silas pauses to open the door to a casino and motions for Jules to enter ahead of him. “You an’ me, we're always gonna notice this kinda thing, on account of our  _ lineage _ , see.”

The door hisses shut and he leads her forward, smiling wide. “Welcome to the Shark Club, Julesy. Been in the Bishop family for-- well, at least a couple generations. Best casino in town.”

“Because it's yours.” Her eyes dart around, focusing on each game and its players in turn before looking back up at him.

“So I'm a little biased.” He smirks but watches the crowd closely himself for any sign of rival families’ agents causing trouble. “You want somethin’ to drink?”

She perks up at that. “God, yes.”


	42. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules finally gets a drink and meets the Hell Twins, Iris and Gideon.

Whiskey for Silas, vodka for Jules-- the bartender gives her a pointed look when she takes the bottle from his hands but a wave from Silas keeps him quiet.

New Reno's not that different from Vegas-- fewer legionaries, though. Not many soul collectors like Caesar either, not that she can tell, and nothing even  _ close _ to...whatever the hell Lanius is. Just run-of-the-mill witches, sorcerers...mafia families...if she and her father are the strangest things in town she's in a good place.

“Jules!” Silas’ voice draws her attention from her second (third?) glass-- on his other side at the bar sit a severe woman and an identical man, both with drinks of their own and eyeing her with unreadable expressions. “Iris, Gideon-- my  _ daughter _ , Julia.” He looks back at Jules as he says her name, pride radiating from his smile-- he barely even  _ knows _ her, what is he  _ doing? _

The woman, Iris, reaches around to shake Jules’ hand and her companion-- a brother, maybe?-- nods and raises his glass to her. “A pleasure, Miss Bishop.”

Jules shakes her head. “Not Bishop, actually, it’s--”

“Gideon, you hear back from the Desperado yet?” Silas shoots her a sideways glance as Gideon answers with a frustrated groan before speaking entirely too quickly for Jules to keep up with this many drinks in. Iris cocks an eyebrow and her gaze lingers a little too long before turning with a slow blink back to Silas.

What...the hell? Silas, he just, why’d he just...the hell? Jules scowls at the back of his head and downs more liquor.

“Hey there, sweetheart.”

_ Christ _ . 

Another stranger sidles up to the empty space on her right, flashing two fingers at the bartender before giving Jules a slick grin. “You new in town?”

She rolls her eyes and angles herself away from him. “Out of your league, buddy. Fuck off.”

“Aw, c’mon-- don’t be like that.” The bartender delivers two more drinks and the stranger slides one over to Jules, who slides it right back. “Lemme show you the sights, buy you somethin’ to drink...we can have some fun. I know my way around.”

“I  _ said _ , fuck off.” A familiar tingling starts building in her palms, the current spreading and coursing up and down her fingers. Silas is still wrapped up in conversation with the others, but it’s not like Jules hasn’t dealt with her fair share of men in bars.

The bastard’s persistent, moving closer, lowering his voice. “I’m sure a pretty girl like you’s been gettin’ plenty of  _ attention _ from these other guys, but lemme tell ya somethin’-- they ain’t shit, sweetheart. They don’t know how to treat a lady such as yourself-- me, I’m a real  _ gentleman. _ You won’t be  _ disappointed _ , baby.” His arm snakes around her waist, fingers brushing against the knife scar-- and that’s  _ it. _ Jules throws her entire weight into a loud  _ SLAP! _ to his face, toppling him from his chair with an electric crackling as she makes contact; cheap booze splashes all over her and soaks into her borrowed clothes and he’s too shocked to even make a sound as she jumps up and pressed a heeled shoe to his groin.

“Touch me again and I’ll snap your dick off.” She leans forward, more weight on him, finally earning a pained whimper. “That’s not a  _ threat _ , it’s a  _ promise _ , understand?”

He nods frantically-- one hand clutching his face where she hit it, but between his fingers she sees another set, singed into his skin, bright red and swelling.

“Jules?”

She turns around to face Silas, Iris and Gideon peering incredulously around him at the man on the floor. “...He was bothering me.”

Silas looks from her to the man and back to her, and with a brief shrug finishes his drink and sets the empty glass on the counter. “Well. You handled it yourself-- good job, babygirl.” Recognition flashes across his face and he nudges her to the side, kneeling to get a good look at the man’s face himself. “Isaac?”

They lock eyes, and the man on the floor groans. “ _ Shit _ .”

“You’re a fuckin’  _ idiot _ , Isaac. You makin’ moves on  _ all _ my girls?”

Isaac’s eyes couldn’t get any wider. “She’s--?” He looks up at Jules. “You’re his...?  _ Fuck _ .”

“Should’ve stayed on the Strip.” Silas smirks and turns away, motioning for Jules to follow him back outside. “Iris? Take care of him for me, will ya?”

“Of course, Mr. Bishop.” Iris drains the last of her wine from her glass; Gideon stretches and cracks his knuckles before hoisting Isaac to his feet and carting him off towards the back of the casino.

“Thanks for takin’ care of him, Julesy,” Silas says once they’re a good distance away from the Shark Club. “Been a thorn in my side for God knows how long-- wouldn’t leave Evie  _ or _ Claud alone ‘til I threatened him  _ personally _ .” 

“I met him before. In Novac, said you were looking for him ‘cause he robbed you.” Jules hesitates. “And...because he slept with your daughter…?”

Silas snorts. “Sounds better to say that than to say he was  _ stalking _ my daughter. Like I said, sonofabitch wouldn’t leave her  _ or _ Claudia alone. The robbery’s true, but the rest of it…just a stupid lie to stroke his own ego.” He shakes his head. “Unless  _ you _ slept with him. Then I guess it’d technically be true.”

“Oh god, no.”  _ I have  _ **_standards_ ** _ ,  _ Jules wants to add, but she doesn’t want to lie to her father on her first day back alive.

Silas just laughs again, quiet, and glances at her as they walk through the streets, bathed in neon. “You burned him good, Jules. Right on his face-- ain’t gonna forget that any time soon.”

“Uh...thanks?”

“So...what else can you do?”

“What can I  _ do? _ ” She tilts her head, confused.

“Like magic. Your god blood, what’d you do with it? Evie’s a necromancer-- a damn good one, ‘cause of her god blood. You specialize in anything?”

“Oh.” Jules scratches the back of her neck. “Not...not really. I didn’t even know about...you know, and Mom was really paranoid and wouldn’t let me do much magic growing up. I can control it, kind of. I was good at techromancy, but...that’s about it. Not a lot.”

“Huh.” Silas thinks a minute, runs a hand through his hair. “Then we’re startin’ from the ground up here. I’ll teach you everything you need, don’t you worry.”


	43. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes has more unsettling dreams and decides to set some contingency plans.

The same dream repeats itself day after day; every single time Vulpes shuts his eyes he sees that  _ witch, _ standing over his burning body with her smug little grin as he suffers and sputters out. It's been  _ two weeks _ since he slept last and it's become noticeable; others comment on it. From Caesar's smirk and false pity when he ordered Vulpes to quit starving his cousin to Jessie herself, haranguing him and defying him day in and day out,  _ GOD,  _ he has to do something to fix this.

If Jessie has to eat, she'll be as miserable as he can make her. He pulls a young blonde woman out of the just-arrived captures and shoves her frightened and shaking form over to Jessie. “I know she can't compare to the  _ heavenly _ taste of your  _ friend _ , but hopefully she's similar enough to sate your appetite.” It's similar enough for him at least. He watches Jessie steel herself before her hunger wins out and she lunges, sinking her teeth into the slave's pale throat and draining her within minutes. Just as satisfying as last time.

“You'll be infiltrating Indian Springs,” Vulpes says while she's still licking blood from her teeth. “Legate Lanius laying siege to the town. You are to conduct reconnaissance  _ only _ , this mission is for the sole purpose of gathering information. Understood?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” He waves her off. “That's all.”

Now while she's gone, he can take care of business.

Vulpes waits until she's been gone for several minutes before slipping back to his room to change into his profligate disguise. Legion armor gives him authority, but where he's going he needs to blend in, not intimidate.

The door guards nod at him as he passes out onto the Strip. No chatter of tourists fills the air, no music from the casinos or barkers on the street, just neon lights dancing for an absent audience. Ever since the Legion took control civilian traffic has waned day by day until it ceased entirely a mere three weeks into Caesar's rule, aided in no small part by the Legion's own action clearing the Strip. The three families keep to themselves now; they haven't given up their turf, each waiting for another to make the first move, but neither are they fighting back, instead letting the Legion take what it will with only whispering dissent when they think the frumentarii can't hear.

Freeside, on the other hand, is much more brash. Legion armor is met with everything from open glares to spitting to thrown rocks and brazen attacks-- or at least it used to be. Vulpes passes through without receiving so much as a second glance, save for a recruit guarding the Silver Rush who's quickly nudged back into vigilance by his companion. He pays them no mind; what he needs can no longer be found at the Silver Rush nor in Freeside at all.

He moves quickly, silently away from the city, the road flying under his feet as he passes darkened houses and ramshackle motels on his way east. What took the Legion a solid day of marching takes him mere hours-- not to the Dam, not quite, but to a small settlement barely populated enough to be called a town, just to the northwest of the Dam itself. Boulder Beach, the sign proudly declares in peeling paint letters. Below it hangs a simplistic map of the town, but Vulpes knows how to find his destination. Even if he didn't it would be painfully obvious-- bright green neon letters proclaiming one of the larger buildings to be “FRIEDA'S FIREARMS,” a smaller sign in the window flashing “OPEN 24 HOURS” in red.

Vulpes casts a glance over his shoulder before pushing open the door. The jingling bell catches the attention of the shop’s proprietor, a woman casually flipping through a magazine on the counter, meticulously braided hair pulled up into a tight bun. She glances up over her reading glasses at him and raises an eyebrow. “Little late for you to be out, isn't it?”

This...this isn't the greeting he expected. “I'm a grown man, I can go wherever I please whenever I please.”

“ _ Ha! _ ” She flips the magazine shut and takes her glasses off, grinning wide. “You can't be more than, what-- sixteen? Seventeen? Your parents know you're here?”

If he wasn't already dead Vulpes knows he'd be blushing fiercely right now. “I'm twenty-one! If I want a gun in the middle of the night I'll get one!”

She laughs again, harder this time. “ _ Hoo _ , you're a  _ riot _ . C’mere, let me get a look at you. You take your daddy's suit for this?”

Fuming, he steps forward at her motion. How  _ dare _ this  _ profligate _ woman speak to him like this; she may not know who he is  _ now _ but rest assured she and the entirety of this little  _ spit _ of a town--

Her nose wrinkles once he's within arm's reach. “A  _ vampire? _ Really? That's what Claudia's resorting to now?”

Vulpes stops in his tracks. “How do you--”

“I'm a Van Graff-- you think we can't tell undead when we see them?”

“But I--”

“You put a cheap little glamour on that suit of yours, I know. Come into my store, try to fool me into thinking you're a  _ man _ …” The woman-- must be Frieda, he reasons-- shakes her head and folds her arms. “You go back to my sister and tell her if it has to be like this to at least fight  _ fair _ . I'm not putting a  _ child _ in harm's way.”

“I'm not a child!” Vulpes bristles; this isn't what he'd planned for at  _ all _ . A brief flash of temptation to leap over the counter and drink her blood for her insolence crosses his mind but he shoves it back down. He's here for her  _ help-- _ he has to play his cards right instead of flipping over the entire table. “They...they  _ turned _ me when I was seventeen.”

Frieda's suspicion doesn't disappear. “ _ Who _ turned you?”

Vulpes hesitates, biting his lip, before pulling something out of his pocket. “ _ They _ did.” He sets it on the counter and slowly moves his hand aside to show her his Mark of Caesar, silver shining in the lamplight.

Frieda sucks in a sharp breath and picks the Mark up to examine it. “The god-damned frumentarii...you one of them?” Vulpes nods and her eyes narrow. “What are you doing here?”

“I...I'm  _ scared _ . I didn't  _ want _ to be a frumentarius, they just  _ did _ this to me. They kidnapped me and killed my family and turned me into this...this  _ monster _ .” He looks up at her with teary eyes. “The leader of the frumentarii ties up ones who fail and waits for the sunrise to kill them-- I'm an  _ awful _ spy, my glamours don't even work, I don't want to die like that! And-- and I heard Van Graffs know necromancy, and you're the only one left here...you  _ have _ to help me, there has to be  _ something  _ you can do.”

Frieda's gaze softens a little, but she shakes her head as she presses the Mark back into his hand and turns to leave. “I can't reverse vampirism, hon, I'm sorry. Maybe my mother could have, God rest her soul, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can do.”

“Please!” Vulpes grabs her hand, letting his tears fall down his face and his desperation flow into his voice. “ **_You have to help me._ ** ”

Frieda pauses. The dull look Vulpes knows so well glazes over her eyes for just a brief second before they focus on him again. “I...I can't…”

_ Please,  _ **_gods_ ** _ , don't tell him he's lost  _ **_all_ ** _ his charm to his cousin. _

“I can't make any promises, but I think there's something we can try.”

Vulpes lets out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. “Thank you--  _ thank _ you, Ms. Van Graff, you have  _ no idea _ what this means to me!”

Frieda nods and pulls away to bend down and retrieve a large spellbook from under the counter. “It won't be pleasant. You have to be  _ sure _ this is what you want.”

“It  _ is _ what I want, more than anything-- I'll do  _ whatever _ it takes to...to not be this  _ thing _ anymore.”

“Good. You'll need that commitment once we get going.” She dons her glasses again, opens the book to a section towards the back and points to a large heading in bold black type, flipping it around so he can read. “What do you know about liches?”

Vulpes’ eyes scan over the text as he pretends to struggle reading the Latin. “I know they're immortal, right?”

“Undead, technically. Which you already have covered.” Frieda turns the book around again and starts running her finger over the text, searching for something. “They're a lot harder to re-kill than vampires, though. Their souls are tied to what's called a phylactery, and only by destroying that can a lich truly die. And phylacteries have so many wards and are made of such tough material that it's damn hard to fully destroy them; I've never met anyone who could.”

“Vampires don't have souls, how can I--”

She glares at him over her glasses. “You really trying to lecture  _ me _ on necromancy? I know what I'm talking about.” Vulpes falls back meekly and she continues. “Besides, it's less that you don't have a soul and more like...you've been cut off from it.  _ Zombies _ don't have souls. They’re just animated corpses. Vampires do, technically, the connection is just...more tenuous than it is with the living.”

“So...how is this going to work?”

Frieda bites her lip. “It'll be tricky-- there's a reason you don't see many vampire liches around. But if it works, nothing the Legion can throw at you for deserting-- nor anything anyone else throws at you for being former Legion-- will stick. If you die, you'll just reform with your phylactery and come back. So while I can't reverse vampirism, I can at least guarantee you won't  _ stay _ dead if anything happens to you.”

“ _ How? _ ”

That may have been too much. Frieda looks up, slowly, her eyes narrowed again. “Do you want my help?”

Vulpes nods.

“Then  _ listen _ to me,  _ boy _ .” She starts scribbling a list on a notepad, glancing at the book every so often. “You do  _ exactly _ as I say and I believe we can pull this off.” She hands off the list and shoos him away with a little smile. “Now go-- come back when you have everything and we'll get started.”


	44. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pleasant memory fades back into reality for Jules.

Cottonwood Cove is just as beautiful as always, sun shining bright and reflecting off the deep blue of the Colorado right outside their motel room door. Jules practically drags her mother outside and down to the beach-- it’s still early enough in the day for them to largely have the cove to themselves, save for a few fishermen who offer friendly waves as they pass.

“C’mon, hurry up, Mom!” Jules scoops up a towel that slipped from Eliza’s arms and darts farther down towards the water. Eliza laughs, shading her face with her free hand.

“The beach isn’t going anywhere, sweetheart, take your time.” By the time she reaches the river Jules is already diving in and splashing about, towel and sunglasses thrown haphazardly aside. Eliza watches her for a moment before hastily braiding her hair back and setting up their spot for the day: a blanket spread across the hot sand, weighed down by Eliza’s current read and their lunch in a picnic basket, all in the shadow of a large, sun-bleached umbrella. 

Jules ducks under, the cool water a welcome relief from the already-scorching morning sun. It’s crystal clear no matter how deep she goes, little fish darting about in front of her and in between the lakeweed that tickles her skin. No sign of lakelurks; the cove’s regular residents have spent years teaching them to stay farther downriver and away from visitors. The McAllisters have been making the trek from Nipton each summer for as long as Jules can remember and not once in her seventeen years has she laid eyes on one of the creatures.

She pushes up off the river bottom to the surface for air, but when she wipes the water from her vision Eliza is nowhere to be seen. “Mom?” A tingle of fear starts in her fingertips and she starts paddling back towards shore. “Mom? Where’d you--”

A sudden wave splashing into her from behind cuts her off, followed by the unmistakable sound of her mother’s laughter. “Mom!!” Jules spins herself around, trying and failing to contain her own giggles. 

Before she can retaliate Eliza dives underwater to escape, surfacing a few yards away and waving back at her. “Catch me if you can!” She disappears again, reappears farther away towards the opposite shore, still waving.

Jules starts to chase after her but Eliza’s just quick enough to stay out of reach, even feigning boredom a couple times as she waits for her daughter to catch up, leaving her still a little ways off by the time Eliza’s reached the other side of the cove. Her back’s to the water while she wrings out her braid and Jules smirks. A foolish mistake. She looks back over her left shoulder, then her right, making sure no one can see her, then slowly stands and lifts her hands into the air. Water dripping down her arms starts flowing upwards into her palm, soon joined by more from the river, forming swirling orbs the size of baseballs, and with another round of giggles she launches them, triumphant, at her mother, followed by a sweeping wave she pushes forward with another spell to soak her through and through.

Eliza freezes at the shock, hands splayed out at her sides. “Oh my  _ god! _ ” She turns around with a few steps, but the amusement quickly falls from her face when she sees how far out Jules still is-- too far to hit her that hard without the use of magic. “ _ Julia _ , did you just cast a  _ spell _ for that?”

Jules sinks into the water again, only her eyes just barely above the surface. She shakes her head no, but Eliza just frowns deeper and motions for her to come closer. Jules obeys.

“You can’t be this irresponsible. What if someone saw you?”

“There’s no one around, Mom, it’s fine.”

“Not that you can see. What if there’s hunters here,  _ waiting _ for someone to cast spells? They can track you that way, Julia.”

“It’s  _ fine _ . Not everyone who uses magic is a witch, you know.”

“But  _ you are _ , you have to be  _ careful! _ ” Eliza brushes aside the hair that’s fallen in front of Jules’ face, and Jules suddenly realizes the intensity of her mother’s tone, how deeply furrowed her brow is. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, sweetheart. Just... _ promise _ me you’ll be careful. Please.”

Jules reads the worry in her eyes-- she’s heard this or something similar countless times growing up, but never this... _ urgent _ before. She nods, slowly. “Yeah, I...Mom, is something wrong? I was just playing around, I didn’t mean…”

Eliza sighs. “No, it’s nothing. I’m just worried for you...and what kind of mother would I be if I  _ didn’t _ worry about you.” She tries to play it off with a laugh and a fluff of Jules’ hair before leading her back to the river. “You getting thirsty? I packed us some sarsaparilla, if we stick it in the water for a bit it should be cold pretty quickly.”

They swim back to the other shore, stopping for a few brief splash fights on the way and letting the sun dry them off as they wait for their sodas to chill. Jules dozes off under the umbrella while her mother reads, only waking her up after a couple hours have passed and the sun is high in the sky. She stretches and yawns as she puts on another layer of sunscreen before heading out again while Eliza stays behind this time, engrossed in her book.

Jules does a couple laps back and forth across the cove, watching other tourist families play and splash around the dock, teenagers diving off the floating barge, a few boys daring each other to go farther and farther downriver, away from the resort and towards lakelurk territory before each chickens out and comes racing back to be mocked by his friends. She lets herself drift along, floating and sculling on her back while bright white clouds take shape above her-- that one looks like a bighorner, and that one’s so clearly a Nuka Cola bottle, and that one, that one looks like how she’s always pictured the aliens in her favorite book, tentacled monsters from Mars come to rule mankind.

Something on shore catches her eye, another blanket spread out near her own and occupied by a young woman, barely older than Jules, with marvelous, shockingly pink hair. Jules’ stomach growls just as she notices her and as she’s making her way back she keeps an eye on the other woman-- Pink Hair is watching her, never staring long enough for anyone else to realize, but Eliza ingrained vigilance in her daughter from the beginning-- Jules notices.

Eliza herself hasn’t, though, and Jules realizes as she towels her hair dry that she isn’t...apprehensive, not like she is when she feels others’ eyes on her at home. Pink Hair doesn’t seem dangerous; she’s just...watching. All she has with her is the towel she’s posed on, soaking up sun, no umbrella like the rest of the visitors staying at the motel. She didn’t bring anything to eat? To drink? Maybe she couldn’t afford it-- maybe she was just a day visitor, didn’t have money for a room or to buy lunch there, and if that was the case, it wouldn’t be  _ right _ to let her just go without, would it? Paranoid as her mother is, there’s no way she could deny helping someone in need.

Jules nudges her mother with her elbow. “Mom. See her, over there?” She nods towards Pink Hair. “She doesn’t have anything with her-- no food, no water, nothing. Just that towel.”

Eliza glances up from her book to see for herself. “That’s odd.”

“Can we share some of ours with her? We have plenty-- I  _ saw _ you pack it.”

Eliza watches Pink Hair, herself now watching the cove with a little smile on her face, and nods. “Of course. Invite her on over. She seems lonely, maybe we can give her some company.”

Jules breaks out into a grin and darts over to Pink Hair, stopping a polite distance away with her arms folded behind her back. Part of her, she hadn’t wanted to admit, was anticipating her mother’s negative answer, and thus she hasn’t thought of what to say that won’t make her seem...well,  _ weird _ . But she clears her throat anyway to get the woman’s attention, smiling at her when she looks up. “I like your hair. I wish my mom would let me do something like that.”

“Uh...thank you.” Pink Hair lowers her sunglasses to get a better look at her and Jules sees something flash in her eyes-- but what, she doesn’t know. Surprise? Confusion?

She sticks out her hand, still smiling. “I’m Jules. Jules McAllister.”

“...Jessie Lexington.” They shake hands, the other woman--  _ Jessie _ , Jules can remember that-- still looking very slightly bewildered. “Jules, how’re you...how’re y’ _ doin’ _ this?”

Jules tilts her head. “How am I doing what?”

“ _ This _ , all a’ this.” Jessie gestures around to indicate the resort. “Did you... _ create _ all this yerself after gettin’ banished?”

“Banished? What are you talking about?” Jules laughs, but it’s not wholly sincere. Her nerves put a little waver in her voice and the strangest feeling creeps up on her, like everything is the  _ tiniest _ bit wrong. Colors too vivid, sounds and textures too sharp. “I’m just here with my mom, she’s right over there.”

Jessie follows Jules’ pointing and, after a moment of silence, nods, understanding something Jules isn’t privy to. “Right, ’m sorry-- still lost in a daydream, that’s all. Didn’t mean t’confuse you.”

“Oh.” The strange feeling fades away, replaced by a warm and comforting familiarity as Jules continues. “We-- my mom and I-- we just noticed that you don’t have any food or water with you, and...well, it’s just about lunchtime, and we have extra of everything, so...do you want to come have some of ours?”

Jessie meets her eyes again, and a smile breaks across her face as she pushes her sunglasses back up. “I’d love to, Jules.”


	45. Jessica Lexington

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some important information is exchanged between Lex and Jules on the astral plane.

Lex took a deep bite into the wrap in her hands, tearing off a chunk and chewing it with vigor. It was just gecko chunks in a simple maize tortilla, but _God_ , was it _good_. Juicy, chunky, just salty enough… She chased it back with a cold swig of sarsaparilla, cooled at the bottom of of the cove by the edge of the dock, the chilled liquid sweet and quenching as she downed it so furiously some dribbled down the sides of her lips and onto her chin. Barely stopping to breathe, she took another bite of the wrap and kept munching away with unending vigor.

Across from her she could see Jules and… her  _ mother _ , Eliza, exchanging some amused glances with each other.

“Geez, when was the last time you ate?” Jules said to her, almost laughing at the sight.

Lex swallowed quick, still chewing a little while rasping out her words--

“Aw--mmph--I eat ‘nuff, jus--mmf--this’m real good stuff.”

She smiled at them, drinking again from the sarsaparilla bottle.

“Well, there’s plenty,” Eliza said, taking a more demure sip from her own sarsaparilla bottle, “and I’m glad to see  _ someone _ enjoy my cooking.” she added, nudging Jules with her elbow and grinning at her.

“Aw mom! I like your cooking! It’s just I’ll never forget that the ONE time you splurge for some brahmin steaks, you BURN them!!” Jules said with a giggle.

Eliza giggled back, 

“Hey, how was I supposed to know brahmin cooks faster than gecko chops?”

Between another bite Lex mumbled out her own chewy noises of amusement, smiling with her full lips at the two. The two seemed so… happy. It wasn’t a surprise that this was where Jules’s mind wandered when left alone. Lex didn’t know how Jules had constructed this fantasy, but it was surely  _ hers _ . She had reached out for Jules on the astral plane and felt her presence, and without even realizing how, found herself  _ sunbathing _ on the cove beach. It was a powerful apparition, all of this, especially for someone  _ dead _ . But it didn’t surprise Lex that Jules was capable of this in her isolation--not a challenge for someone  _ divine _ . 

The sand, the beach towels, the food, Jules and her mother, the cool cove winds--the  _ hot _ , warm sun on Lex’s  _ skin _ … vivid sensations, the edges of the horizon and the rest of the cove beyond them trailing out into hazy shapes and feelings, flickering and swirling like a heat mirage off the desert ground--Jules unaware of the small confines of her reality. 

Lex wasn’t going to break this. Not  _ yet _ … at least… 

She took in a deep breath of the clean air, and listened to the seabirds squabbling nearby on a dock and circling in the air above them, and looked up towards the bright sky, sunbeams falling over her like warm blankets, caressing and enveloping her.

“Jessie? Are you… okay?”

Her attention snapped back to Jules and she sniffed hard, finding the first bits of tears welling in her eyes. She blinked them away and gave back a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. It’s just… such a beautiful day, ain’t it? Sometimes y’just gotta sit back an’ thank God for some a’ the gifts He gives us.”

“That’s a lovely way of putting that, Jessie.” Eliza said, a softness coming into her voice, “it’s important to appreciate what we have and love while we have it.”

“Amen.” Lex answered, nodding, and taking another bite.

“Yeah, yeah, take nothing for granted, I’ve only heard that a  _ million _ times but now it’s like there’s TWO of my mom! Jessie, please don’t yell me at next to wear longer skirts.”

Lex and Eliza both laughed at that, Lex grinning at Jules--

“Well y’know, y’either give an’ inch to th’Lord ‘er you let th’Devil take one, leave room fer Jesus, wash behind yer ears, never take candy from strangers, an’ so on so forth, Jules.”

Jules snorted back,

“Well NOW you’re just starting to sound like the quack ‘priest’ back home at Nipton. If you mention the  _ rapture _ next I’m just gonna leave!!”

“Julia, be polite now.” Eliza chastised.

“Aw, it’s alright, Miss McAllister, I take no offense.” Lex said, staying cheerful.

“Well, good to hear that. So, Miss Lexington, you seem like someone of faith. Where are you from?” Eliza now asked.

“Yeah, you don’t sound like you’re from around here, that’s for sure.” Jules added, rolling her eyes and adding a little twinge of sarcastic contempt into her last words as she glanced at some of the other locals around the cove.

“Mhm.” 

Lex finished the last bite of her wrap, washing it down with one final big swig of her sarsaparilla, emptying the bottle.

“Mmm! Real good stuff, hoo. Well...” 

She hesitated for a moment--why ruin this now? 

“Well,” she started again, “I’m from up north. Real nice place called New Canaan, tradin’ town along th’Long Fifteen.”

At this moment in time,  _ whenever  _ it was, that was true  _ enough _ . New Canaan still stood… still  _ thrived _ . While it wasn’t where she was born, she had spent enough time there to consider it a home of sorts. Judging by Jules, what could the year have been? 2275? A brief twinge of something heavy passed through Lex as she wondered if her fifteen-year-old self was nearby. No, at this time she would’ve been deep in Arizona, probably doped out on Med-X while she practiced cursing Legion camps with their kidnapped soldiers’ own  _ blood _ . For a moment she wondered if her old blood magic would work in this fantasy…

“Oh, New Canaan? Must be Mormon, then?” again, Eliza snapped Lex out of her own musings.

Geez, she must seem so spacey and strange to them, Lex thought.

“Ah, yeah! Darn right. Mormon born an’ bred. Us children a’ the Latter Day Saints always keep God in our hearts.”

“Wait, children of… what? What the Hell’s a  _ Mormon _ ?”

“Julia!” Eliza snapped.

“Hey--”

Before Jules could protest more, Lex interrupted--

“--No no, it’s alright, Miss McAllister, I can’t imagine y’get too many a’ my kind over in yonder Nipton. Jules,” Lex redirected her attention, “we’re jus’ good Christian folk, lucky enough t’get a prophet a lot more recent than everyone else, who th’angels blessed wit’ some real prime knowledge a’ the Lord.” 

“Oh  _ yeah _ ? Like  _ what _ ?” Jules said, more sarcasm than curiosity in her voice.

Yeah, that was Jules alright, Lex mused to herself.

“Heh, well, did y’know the Son a’ God himself once walked these lands here?”

“Pshh,  _ when _ ?” Jules kept on, ignoring a stern glance from her mother.

Lex was unphased by her sarcasm, really more amused at Jules’s trademark attitude.

“Well I mean, he had t’kill his time  _ somehow  _ between bein’ crucified an’ comin’ back outta his tomb, yeah? Jesus was a keen multitasker.”

“So you’re telling me he just took a little  _ vacation _ in the Americas for a few days?  _ How?? _ ”

“He’s the  _ son a’ God _ . Gotta imagine all sorts a’ things are possible to a man wit’  _ Godblood _ runnin’ in his veins, whether it be travelin’ real far or  _ resurrection _ .” Lex answered, lingering on her last word.

“Sounds pretty wild to me-- _ demigods _ just waltzing around the mojave?? And how much would you know about  _ that?? _ ” 

“Well--”

“I think that’s  _ enough _ , Julia.” Eliza cut Lex off, giving a final glare at Jules. 

“Okay,  _ fine _ , mom.” Jules shrugged and rolled her eyes and Eliza rolled her eyes back, giving a playfully exasperated look at Lex--

“ _ Teenagers. _ ”

“Heh, we all were feisty teens at some point, Miss McAllister, I take no offense.”

At least in Lex’s case, “feisty” was about as tame a euphemism as one could’ve had for her, if you counted guerrilla counter-insurgency as teenage shenanigans. Was this what being a teenager was really meant to be like? Trips to the beach with your mother… picnic lunches under the sun. A cold sarsaparilla, and a breeze... 

Again, something heavy fell over Lex as the edges of the fantasy around her shimmered. She leaned back a little, letting her hand creep over the edge of her towel to curl her fingers in the hot sand, feeling the grains against her skin and lodging themselves under her fingernails.

“Hey Jessie,” Jules piped up, “bet I can swim faster than you can.”

“Hoh! Is that a  _ challenge?? _ ” Lex smirked back.

“It is now!!!” Jules shouted, springing up from her spot and running towards the water, spraying sand onto Lex and Eliza.

“Hey!!”

“Ooh!! Yer gonna get it!!”

Lex sprang up right after her, kicking up sand just as furiously as she ran towards the water’s edge. As her ankles broke the cool waterline, she took a few more large strides before launching herself into a dive in the water, the world splashing and quieting underneath the surface as she could feel her heart pounding.

  
  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  
  


“Hahaha!!! Haha!!”

Laughter rebounded across the beach as Lex clutched her torso, feeling her chest burn from the lack of air her raucous laughter had struck her with. Jules and Eliza laughed along, just as torn up.

“It’s true--it’s true!!” Eliza wheezed between laughs, “that’s--that’s my little Julia!!”

“Hah hah--hoo!! I just can’t believe--hah--that such a lil’ girl coulda been such a firebrand!!” Lex wheezed back.

“It’s true!! I swear!! I know I was only like, four, but I remember it!!!” Jules said back after gathering herself enough to speak again, “middle of the town hall meeting--RIGHT up to the fucking mayor--”

“ _ Language _ , Julia.”

“--right up to the  _ freakin’ _ mayor, and announced I was running against him!!!”

“Y’little politician, you!”

“Yes, but, Jessie, you don’t understand the best part--Julia,  _ please _ tell her!”

“My  _ pleasure _ , mom!! So--and get this--when the election comes around? I got THIRTY percent of the vote!!!”

“WHAT!!” Lex shouted, before doubling over in another fit of laughter.

“No--haha ha hah--no way!!”

“It’s true!!!” Jules squeaked out between more laughs.

“All write-ins!!!” Eliza added.

“NO!!!” Lex squealed, clutching herself and laughing even more, almost writhing on the beach towel and straying on to the sand around it.

She banged her fist against the sand a few times while struggling to gather herself, gasping again for air.

They all laughed a bit more before finally gasping in some breaths of composure, tears almost in their eyes as they righted themselves and took a few deep breaths in the light of dusk that had bathed the beach in orange hues.

“Yes… that’s my little Julia. She was the only person to ‘run’ against the mayor in YEARS. That was even the highest voter turnout in over a decade!!”

“That’s--I mean, Miss McAllister--that is right there just TOO much. Hoo-ee!” Lex slapped her knee, grinning at Jules, who herself was beaming with pride at her child exploits.

“I don’t know, Jessie, I mean, heh, how can I top hiding a  _ pet giant mantis nymph _ from your parents under your house for MONTHS?”

“Naw, see now Jules, that there was a group effort between me an’ my cousin, an’ yeah we were jus’ wee kiddos, but it ain’t as impressive as  _ enterin’ politics at age four _ .” 

“Well, I mean DUH, I was being  _ rhetorical _ , Jessie.”

“Hoo! Ain’t never lost yer pride, that’s fer sure.”

“No, Julia never has.” Eliza said, smiling at her daughter and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You’ve become a confident young woman, and even though you still give me plenty of headaches, I’m proud of you, Julia.”

“Aw, mom…” Jules said sheepishly, rubbing the back of her head, “you’re embarrassing me in front of Jessie.”

“Well it’s only because I love you, sweetie.”

“MoooOOOOoom.”

Lex giggled, and watched as Eliza stood up, face cast in orange shadows by the sunset.

“Well, now that I’ve embarrassed my daughter enough, how about I get us all some ice pops from the motel before we pack up for the night?” 

“Ohh! Yes!”

“Yes please, Miss McAllister!”

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit, girls!”

As Eliza turned to leave, Lex suddenly shouted after her, overcome by a split second of sudden panic--

“HEY! Wait, Miss McAllister.”

Eliza turned around, confused, concern on her face.

“What is it, Jessie?”

“I, uh…” Lex paused for a moment, before turning to Jules, “Hey Jules, tell yer mom y’love her too.”

“What?” Jules said back, squinting a little.

Eliza laughed once, crossing her arms and playfully tapping her foot against the sand.

“Well, Julia? I’m waiting.”

“Aw… alright. Hey mom, I love you.”

Eliza smiled,

“I love you too, Julia.”

She turned and walked away heading for the shimmering orange distance, towards the wavy, blurred image of the small motel beyond the beach, herself fading into its distorted edges.

“Hey uh, Jessie, what was that all about?” Jules said, her voice a little faster than before, something new and tense in its fringes.

“Lex.”

“What…?”

“Y’usually call me Lex. Most people do.” 

Lex’s voice had fallen, becoming flat as she stared off into the fading distance, the sun growing lower every moment, their shadows lengthening in the dusk into sharp spikes crawling out from their bodies and piercing the surface of the beach.

“What do you mean,  _ usually? _ Geez, we spent the whole fucking day together, c’mon Jessie, don’t tell me you suddenly are losing it or something.” 

Lex could hear her voice picking up in urgency, and started to hear  _ more _ beyond that… started to hear Jules’s heartbeat, faintly inside of her, jumping up and pounding faster.

“I’m… sorry, Jules. For this.” Lex said, softer this time.

“Well, you should be! For acting so fucking weird all of a sudden!! Christ, Lex!!”

Jules seemed to have caught herself, flinching at her own word choice. Lex looked up, seeing Jules’s eyes struggling to stay on her, as they darted around over Lex’s shoulder and elsewhere, perhaps starting to see the way the edges of reality wavered.

“No, Jules… I... “ She stopped, pursed her lips searching for the right words, and continued--“I’m… very  _ thankful _ to have shared this wit’ you, Jules. This was somethin’ very special and precious. But… I came here for a reason. I have some very important news for you.”

“News??? Listen--I don’t--what’s--why is everything-- _ where _ is my  _ mother _ \--” Jules stopped short, eyes widening as she sprang up to her feet, turning around in circles frantically as she looked all around herself, the sun now just eclipsing behind the westward mountains, its late dusk orange light barely lighting the beach anymore. And yet, as the sun sank further, the beach became brighter for Lex as her eyes sharpened and adjusted to the change, all of it becoming so much more vivid and clear.

“LEX, what’s going ON!?” Jules shouted at her, frozen in place, eyes wide in terror.

Lex remained seated, the air in her lungs suddenly leaving--or, perhaps not leaving, just becoming  _ unnecessary _ \--as she breathed in and out rapidly, gasping for breaths that were increasingly dissatisfying and futile. She felt her heart pound furiously in her chest and a sharp pain suddenly broke through her torso as she clutched her neck, body, her face--

“JESUS, FUCKING HELL,  _ Lex?? _ ”

Jules dropped down on all fours and crawled towards Lex as she doubled over, still clutching her chest. Leaving a fantasy was never painless, was it? How many times had she woken up from her own dreams, and felt the last fantastical rasps of life drift away from her mind…?

With a last gasp, she clutched at her chest and shuddered as she felt her heart stop, her shaking body quieting as she lay still.

“Lex--are you--” Jules stopped short, gasping and lurching away after turning Lex over onto her back, only to find a pale face and dark eyes reflecting the moonlight back at her from their shiny pupils. 

“You’re a--a-- _ vampire _ …” Jules whispered out between taut lips as Lex heard her heart skip up one more notch, this time in perfect auditory clarity. 

Lex nodded softly, sitting up and watching Jules lurch back away from her further, staring at her and watching her blink furiously. The tension was strung between them in the air, as the last tints of dusk’s orange faded away to the pale moonlight. She saw Jules attempt to mouth some words, nothing coming to her, before her posture slacked and her face fell, her heart notching down in speed to match.

“...Hi, Lex.”

“Hello, Jules.”

An aching silence passed between them as they both sat to face each other. Lex suddenly realized that Jules was older, had all her scars--a rapid shift, one Lex didn’t notice the changeover from, only that Jules was here now, as Lex had remembered her. 

Lexington finally broke the silence, speaking first--

“I’m glad I found you. Whatever this--” she motioned around them, “--is, it’s impressive what you’ve conjured, being dead and all.”

Without warning, Jules perked up, a wide grin rapidly sprawling across her face as she leaned towards Lex, barely able to contain herself as she spoke--

“LEX!! LEX, holy fucking SHIT, Lex, do I have some fucking NEWS for you.”

“Wait! Wait Jules, before you tell me,  **_I_ ** need to tell you something!! This is INCREDIBLY important, it explains EVERYTHING about your abilities, and why you were such a strong ghost--all this time, Jules, I think you might some kind of  _ demigod _ \--”

“Some kind of  _ demigod _ , uh, a FOURTH God, to be exact, and because of that, I’m extremely powerful and easy to resurrect compared to most  _ mortals _ . So uh, yeah, Lex!! Guess who’s fucking ALIVE!!  _ THIS _ BITCH!!!” Jules exclaimed, pointing to herself enthusiastically with both thumbs.

“JULES!!” Lex shouted, grabbing her shoulders and blinking a few times before yanking her into a tight hug.

“Go ahead Lexington, give me a big fuckin’ strong vampire hug as HARD as you can, because this is a DREAM. My DREAM. Because I’m ALIVE. And I’ll be FINE!! LIKE I AM NOW!!” 

Well, fuck!!! Lex obeyed, grasping her as tight as she could while shaking herself, tears starting to pour down her face.

“Jules--Jules… I’m so… relieved” Lex sobbed out, voice wavering.

“Pretty fantastic news, right Lex? It’s pretty cool.” Jules said, tone hovering between smug and proud.

Fantastic was an UNDERSTATEMENT… Lex almost couldn’t believe this. But then again this was  _ Jules _ . Should miraculous bullshit even surprise her anymore?? But who fucking cares, Jules was ALIVE… ALIVE!!! As that thought echoed throughout her mind, Lex felt… lighter. Airy, even. Jubilant wasn’t enough to describe it. 

She leaned back, sobbing still but desperately wiping tears out of her eyes to get a good look at Jules again.

“I’m… so  _ glad _ .”

“Yeah, you  _ better  _ be! Sorry I beat you to your chance to get  _ even _ . You’re going to owe me SO much. Wait, though…”

Jules squinted at Lex, hesitant for a moment.

“How are you  _ here _ ? Am I just dreaming you up?”

Lex had to laugh through her tears, grinning once more,

“Nope! Bona fide real deal. Well,  _ astral  _ deal. My stupid fucking  _ smug _ cousin kept taunting me about you, saying a lot of things like ‘divine’ and ‘godly’ and eventually I had to piece it together--what you  _ are _ . I figured I’d find you in the astral plane and try and help you do something with that news, but instead, when I felt your presence and followed it, I guess I landed here…?” Lex said, shrugging at the end.

“Hmm. Guess that makes sense,” Jules mused, “I was in the astral plane for so long, it probably wasn’t hard to trace my… uh… energies? And I guess my dreams or something are open to that.”   
  
“Well, that’s uh--there are  _ actual _ ways to phrase that, but you ain’t so wrong, Jules. Dreams ARE connected to the astral plane--astral projecting is really more like…  _ controlled _ dreaming. And that’s also how you can get omens in dreams, or subconsciously reach out to others, because of that tie to the astral plane. That’s how I’m here.”

“I… think I get it? But what are fucking doing debating this! Lex, I have SO much to tell you, like how I got back to life, I was resurrected by--MMPHHh!!”

Lex sprung forward, covering Jules’s mouth with her hand and silencing her.

“I’m sorry Jules!! Anything you tell me, theoretically my cousin could force out of me. Just… be very  _ vague _ .”

Lex removed her hand, and Jules nodded.

“Oh… yeah. Well, on the topic of him, you can tell him that I’m coming for his pale, skinny ass. He’s so fucking DEAD, you don’t even know, Lex. That piece of shit is going to PAY for everything he’s done to us, and CAESAR too. Just… give me some time to figure out how that’ll happen, but I’m working on it, alright?”

Another nod, this time from Lex and almost furious in its enthusiasm, while she clapped her hands together. 

“ _ Yes _ . Jules. You don’t understand how  _ much _ that means to me to hear. And I’m going to see how long I can get away with this projection stuff until he figures out what I’m doing, but in the meantime, I’m going to do my best to get you useful information. The only vaguely useful thing I have now is that Legate Lanius is  _ definitely _ some kind of high angel, so plan for that.”

“An angel? Explains why he’s such a fucking asshole. But I’ll keep that in mind, Lex. And… I’ll keep this vague, like you said, but some REALLY powerful people have resurrected me, and I think I’m in really good with them, so know that I’m  _ safe _ . Okay?”

“I’m glad to hear that, Jules… and now that we’ve connected like this, you should be able to pretty easily trace your way into my dreams sometime, if you ever need to talk to me. I’ll try and find useful information for you, and when I do I’ll--nngh…”

Lex paused, feeling a sudden tug that knocked the air out of her. She looked behind her, seeing a pale, wispy trail of shimmering blue energy snaking from her and away from her body, into the hazy void of the dream. Arcade… he must be calling her back.

Quickly, she whirled around to Jules--

“I need to go, but I promise, together we will fucking kill EVERY Legion bastard that ever DARED to cross us. You understand?”

Jules smiled back and nodded one last time.   
  
“Capische.”

Lex felt the tug again, this time more urgent, as she whipped right back around to follow it.

“Goodbye, Jules!” She shouted as she ran out of the small patch of sand the little dream had been reduced to around them, space around her flashing by and speeding up at speeds even her vampire eyes couldn’t understand. Faster--faster and faster until--

  
  


\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  
  


“HHHAAHHH….!”

Lexington jolted upright, crashing back into the mortal plane, taking in one large gasp as she sat on the floor, feeling red carpet under her hands again. She blinked a few times and the tinny noise in her ears faded away, and she realized that Arcade had been calling out to her--

“Jess!! Earth to Jess!! Hello!! The guard shift change is in  _ ten minutes _ , help me clean this all up before they arrive!!”

“Oh… OH.”

Lex sprung to her feet, wobbling a little dizzily, before lurching forward to gather the candles around her while Arcade flopped to the floor, furiously scrubbing away the charcoal with a wet cloth. 

“Tell me this was worth it, Lex, you got me on my hands and knees here.”

“Hoo boy, Arcade…”

Lex shoved the candles into a cabinet, and turned around to face him, fangs bared in the widest smile of hers she figured he had ever seen.

“The Legion’s days are fucking  _ numbered _ .”

  
  



	46. Vulpes Inculta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vulpes continues to prepare for the worst.

The Van Graff's shopping list is a trophy case of the morbid, requiring everything from grave desecration to human sacrifice-- though she'd assured Vulpes the lich ascension could be done without anyone dying unnecessarily. He'd nodded appropriately but ignored it; components from the newly dead always had more power anyway.

First. Graveyard dirt-- easy enough, a quick stop at Bitter Springs should do it.

Then bone dust from the recently deceased-- Vulpes takes what appears to be a finger bone from the mass grave hidden in the hills near New Vegas and crushes it in his fist. His torment at  _ her _ hands in life and death, repaid.

Next, blood from someone half his age and twice his age...well. That's what  _ slaves _ are for, isn't it? They  _ disappear _ all the time. Two more won't be missed.

Lastly, vampire blood and poison-- they'll come from the same place, and that's what makes them the hardest to get.

Jessie doesn't even flinch when she returns to find him in her quarters, rifling through her pack. “What are you doing here?” Her voice is flat and lifeless as the two of them.

Vulpes’ fingers brush against metal at the bottom of the bag-- there it is. His hand closes around it and he pulls it out to shake at her. “I'm surprised you still have this-- no one's thought to confiscate it yet?”

“It's just  _ arsenic, _ what's it gonna  _ do _ to me.”

“Oh, I don't care about what it'd do to  _ you,  _ I'm more concerned with what it'd do to, say,  _ Caesar _ . For example.”

“I can't hurt him,  _ remember. _ ” She throws her coat on her bed and sits on the mattress, glaring at him. “You  _ ordered _ me not to.”

“Yes, and we see how eager you are to  _ follow _ those orders.” He pockets the arsenic and stares right back at her. “So I'll be holding on to this. For safekeeping, you understand.”

“Whatever.”

Blood, now, that's the hardest task of all. He could attack her, but there's no guarantee she won't snap and utterly  _ destroy  _ him. Or he could command her to open her wrists, let him take what he needs, but then she'd know he's up to something. He tilts his head, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I'm  _ sorry. _ ” Jessie stands and bows with sneering flourishes. “Whatever,  _ sir. _ That stroke yer ego enough, Arthur?”

Without a word Vulpes marches over and grabs her hair, throwing all his weight into slamming her into the floor, the crunch of her nose against the wood music to his ears. “I've had  _ ENOUGH _ of you!” He lifts her head and SLAMS it again. “Your INSOLENCE!”  _ SLAM!  _ “YOUR  _ DISOBEDIENCE! _ ” **_SLAM!_ ** “You think you're so CLEVER?! That you can get the BEST of me?!” He stands again and kicks her onto her back. “You may be obstinate but you are still  _ my thrall. _ Nothing you can do will  _ ever _ change that.”

Jessie wipes the blood from her nose as she pushes herself up and Vulpes concentrates all his willpower onto her, boring into her and sinking his claws into her mind. “I need blood for a spell, _thrall--_ _vampire_ blood, and _you're going to give it to me_.”

“Bleed  _ yerself _ ,” she spits weakly, but he just presses further.

“No. You'll do it  _ for _ me.” He removes an empty jar from the supply pouch the Van Graff woman had given him and tilts it towards her, eyebrow raised expectantly, and smiles as he feels her will  _ break _ under the pressure. 

Glaring at him all the while, Jessie takes a knife to her wrist without even a slight gasp of pain. “Enjoy it while y’can, Arthur,” she growls. “Y’got no idea what kinda _divine_ _wrath_ is comin’ for you.”

“Eternal damnation? Fire and brimstone?” He scoffs. “Don't kid yourself.  _ This _ is what our eternity is, Jessie. Best you accept it.”

A wicked, fanged grin spreads slowly across her face as he takes and seals the jar, the slice in her skin already healing before their eyes. “You jus’  _ keep _ tellin’ yerself that, Arthur, but I think yet gonna find out who's right a  _ lot _ sooner 'n you think.”

“If that's what helps you sleep at night.” He shoves her out of the way as he saunters out the door without glancing back.

Frieda's painting sigils on her shop's wood floor when he arrives, braids falling loose down her back. He drops a bag full of the potion ingredients on her counter and steps back, fidgeting with his suit jacket and giving a shy wave when she looks up from her work.

“You get everything?”

“I think so.” He knows so. “I couldn't find the ale you wrote down or figure out a way to get any, so I…”

“That's alright, I think I still have some.” Frieda examines each item as she removes it and places it on the counter: arsenic, dirt, dust, vampire blood. “We only need five of the things on the list anyway, so--” She stops abruptly and her face falls, a crimson-coated jar with a scraggly “HUMAN” written on it in black in her hand, a second just set down beside the rest of the ingredients.

Vulpes keeps his eyes on his shoes, silent.

“...You didn't have to kill people for this, Caius.”

“I thought you needed all of it,” he offers for a meek excuse. “I didn't know what else to do.”

Frieda sighs and places the jar with the rest. “I'm sorry you had to do this, I should have been more clear.” She pulls her hair back from her face and deftly sweeps her braids into a bun, glancing across the shop at him. “I know you didn't want to, Caius, but you should have asked. You don’t have to give in to the instincts the Legion’s given you anymore.”

She waves him over to the circle she's painted. “I'll mix up the potion while you light those candles. What I'm going to try is calling your soul back to the mortal plane from the ethereal, then it'll bind to your phylactery. Preferably it should be something you have a strong tie to, powerful memories, sentimental value...things like that. Do you have one already?”

Vulpes nods and fishes his Mark of Caesar out of his pocket. Frieda takes it, running her thumb over the Bull and examining its details.

“Interesting choice. It'll need some runes-- turn off the sign and lock the door for me, will you? I'll get started on this.” She retrieves her glasses from a worn leather case and sets to work.

Vulpes watches from the shop door, occasionally tossing her a question.

“After the potion, what do we have to do?”

“Well, your soul should bind to the phylactery-- we’ll know if it doesn’t-- but to finish it, seal it shut permanently...we’ll have to kill you. There’s another ritual for that, it’s--”

“What?!”

“I know, I know-- but if we don’t it’s not complete. You’ll come back, that’s the entire point of being a lich, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” Pause. “How many liches have you...helped?”

“With the ritual? My brother tried it a couple times and I helped him with it both times. It didn't work, though, as evidenced by the fact that he's now  _ dead _ .”

“Why didn't it work?” He shifts nervously.

“The first time we waited too long between powering the phylactery and doing the ascension. Second time he panicked and his soul wouldn't bind with it. So no matter what happens, you need to remain  _ calm. _ Okay?”

Vulpes nods and falls quiet for another few minutes, until Frieda speaks again.

“My mother was a lich-- after my youngest sister was born, obviously. We watched her do the ritual.”

“Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “...What's it like? When it works, I mean.”

“I don't remember, honestly. I was only about five-- you'd have to ask Jean-Baptiste, he's the oldest, and he's dead, so.”

“...Oh.”

“You'll be okay, Caius.” Frieda holds up the Mark and examines the runes she's etched into it. “That should do it. Just a little bit of your blood to finish off, mark it as yours...”

She starts to unscrew the top to the jar of vampire blood but with lightning speed Vulpes dashes forward and grabs her wrist. “Don't-- not that blood, here.” He picks up her knife and slices across his palm, tugging the medallion out of her hands and rubbing it in his. “Fresh blood works better, right?”

“...Yes.” Frieda narrows her eyes just slightly, but lets him have it. She retrieves a bowl from under the counter and starts mixing the ingredients for the potion. “Light those candles for me?”

Within minutes Vulpes finds himself surrounded by lit candles in a meticulously painted circle, bloodied Mark before him, Frieda offering him a glass of glimmering black liquid. 

“Remember, stay calm, no matter what-- I'm right here, I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Don't drink that until I tell you.”

Vulpes nods, his grip on the glass tightening. If his heart still beat, it would be racing despite himself-- this could be  _ the end _ . For all he knows, this could  _ actually _ kill him-- vampire blood magnifying the effects of the arsenic, the magic running through Frieda's intricate sigils erupting at the  _ violation _ of a  _ vampire _ with a  _ soul _ \-- any number of things could go wrong-- for the first time in  _ years _ , since he was turned in fact, Vulpes feels real, genuine  _ fear. _

Frieda's reading the ritual from her spellbook, pacing deliberately around him outside the circle. Her Latin's less formal than his, her cadence closer to that of a conversation than appealing to gods or spirits or what-have-you that governed the afterlife. A few words make their way through his racing thoughts-- “...receive the soul...bind with blood...taste of life and death for the final time.”

She glances up and nods at him, and with a shaking hand he can’t help he lifts the glass to his lips.

The potion is  _ vile _ , bitter and rotten, copper and garlic, thick with the grit of the graveyard dirt suspended in the liquid-- he gags as it slides down his throat but chokes it down and waits for whatever’s coming next.

A wisp of black smoke begins to rise up from the middle of the circle and curl around his feet, up to his ankles before slithering away to investigate the Mark. Vulpes looks at Frieda, about to ask her what’s going on when an icy hand seizes his chest and he collapses on the floor, gasping and scrabbling to pry himself out of this grip but there’s nothing for him to grab onto and the hand squeezes tighter and  _ tighter _ around him. His heart starts racing inside his chest again for the first time in years, only to stop again when the hand squeezes again, sinking its nails into his flesh. The black smoke drifts lazily across his vision, pokes at his face and leaves him alone to curl up on the floor beside him, twitching lazily. Frieda meets his eyes and nods before continuing to read from the spellbook-- he can’t hear any of the words she’s saying anymore and his vision is blurring…

Except for the figure behind her. Vulpes squints and while Frieda blurs further whoever’s behind her sharpens as they approach him, hand outstretched...it’s his  _ mother _ . Just as he remembers her, black hair in a long braid draped over her shoulder, his same blue eyes looking down at him as she smiles softly.

“Hello, Arthur. Are you ready to go?” She places a hand on his shoulder and her smile drops, confusion quickly turning to disgust and fury, her gentle countenance sloughing off with her skin to reveal a skeletal figure still in her clothes, black as obsidian and recoiling from him with a hiss. “What have you  _ done? _ ”

He tries to wheeze out an answer but the figure disappears with a swipe at his chest, tearing through his clothes and skin, and a loud  _ whoosh _ of ashen wings, leaving only Vulpes, still and prone and gasping on the floor, and Frieda, oblivious to what had happened.

The black smoke pokes at his face again, languid and weak, and his gaze follows it as it starts for the Mark again but just...stops, curling up between it and him, motionless. Frieda frowns and steps inside the circle, kneeling beside him.

“...alright? Caius? Can you hear me?”

Vulpes slowly pushes himself up and winces, eyes still on the coil of smoke. “Is that…”

She nods. “It didn’t bind to your phylactery. The ritual failed...I’m sorry, Caius.”

“But-- but why? We did everything right, didn’t we?” His words carry more desperation than he’d intended.

“Yes, but that was for a  _ human _ \-- there’s nothing in the books about turning a vampire to a lich, it was always something of a toss-up. We did everything we could.” She rubs his shoulder and her eyes drift to his bloody chest. “What-- how did that happen?!”

“I don’t  _ know _ , Frieda!” Vulpes bolts to his feet and starts pacing around inside the circle. “You said this would  _ work _ \-- how did  _ that  _ happen?! Why didn’t it  _ WORK?! _ ”

“Calm  _ down _ , Caius.” Frieda crosses her arms and starts tapping her foot angrily. “I  _ told _ you there was a chance it would fail, there was  _ never _ a guarantee this would work. We  _ both _ knew that.”

“But  _ WHY?! _ ” He snarls, baring his fangs at her-- how-- how  _ could _ she-- why didn’t she  _ know  _ for  _ sure _ before sending him out as her  _ errand boy _ \-- he shouldn’t have wasted his time with her,  _ gods _ .

She takes a deep breath, composing herself. “I think it’s your soul. You’re a vampire, it hasn’t been attached to you for...however many years. It doesn’t have the energy it needs to bind to the phylactery and keep you alive-- or as close to ‘alive’ as liches get.” She gestures to the coil of smoke on the floor. “Just look at it.”

Vulpes stops in his tracks, his back to her. Soul energy...the same thing the Legion was making deals for. “If I can put  _ more _ energy in it…long enough to get the rest of the ritual finished...”

“Hypothetically that could work. Hypothetically.” Frieda shrugs and closes the distance between them, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’d have to  _ kill _ someone for it, though, and I’ve never tried to recharge a soul before, I don’t know if I could do it and I don’t know that it’s even possible.”

No.  _ No _ . He’s not giving up this easily. He clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms, tears choking his words. “I...Frieda, I can’t, this is my one chance at...at escape, I can’t…”

“I’m sorry, Caius...maybe it’s best if you just...move on. There’s nothing else I can do for you.”

He takes a long, deep breath and drains the emotion from his voice. “Then what use are you to me?”

With inhuman speed, Vulpes whips around and seizes Frieda by her shoulders and sinks his teeth into her neck-- she barely even has time to gasp. Shocked blows to his head and body don’t faze him and within seconds they weaken, then stop, then she goes limp and falls to the floor from his arms.

Vulpes licks the last of her blood from his lips and stares at her lifeless corpse, waiting, waiting...until a bolt of electricity bursts forth from her mouth, shooting around the confines of the sigils furiously. The smoke coil--  _ his soul _ \-- perks up as if watching it, and when the bolt passes close enough the smoke lunges out to attack it, enveloping it entirely. It brightens to a slightly lighter grey and twists around Vulpes’ torso; he points at the phylactery, its etched sigils now glowing red-hot. “ _ Vade _ .”

The soul slithers down his outstretched arm and disappears into the Mark, which shakes and flashes brighter for a brief moment before cooling down and lying still. Vulpes leans down to put it back in his pocket-- he feels the energy of his soul in it, but it’s faint, trickling out slow enough to not be an immediate problem but one that will still need to be solved sooner rather than later. Finding someone with enough soul energy to sustain him long enough to permanently seal the phylactery won’t be a problem, though, not in the Legion. In fact, he’s already got several victims in mind.


	47. Jules McAllister

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jules gets PUMPED to kill Caesar. Doesn't really think that one through but boy howdy is she AMPED

Jules jolts awake with a gasp, her fingers curling around sheets and for a brief moment the haze from her dreams still lingers-- the room's sparsely furnished and unfamiliar, the bed certainly doesn't  _ feel _ like one she's used to-- but her senses quickly return to her. New Reno. She's alive, in New Reno, with her father-- she's still getting used to all of the above, not made easier by her vivid dreams. Cottonwood Cove had seemed so  _ real, _ she'd felt the hot sand between her toes, heard her mother's voice again, seen Lex for the first time since…

Lex...Lex!! She's  _ alive _ too, a vampire but Vulpes hasn't done her in yet!! She found her, she went  _ looking _ for Jules and wandered into her dream, it was  _ really her!! _ She's okay!!

She falls with a THUD out of bed and scrambles up to the clothes she'd thrown across a chair, rifles through the pile she and Evie  brought back to fill her closet but hasn't yet sorted, starts slamming whatever she can lay her hands on into a bag. She has to go, she has to go to Vegas  _ now _ , get Lex out of Vulpes’ thrall, fucking  _ destroy him _ \--

“Jules?” A sleepy voice comes with the creak of her door opening. “Are you okay?”

Jules freezes and tugs her shirt the rest of her way over her head. Evie's leaning against the doorframe, frowning and rubbing her eyes.

“It's three in the morning. Why are you  _ awake? _ ”

“Why are  _ you _ awake?”

“I heard something that sounded like a body hitting the floor. Had to make sure you didn't die. Can't have that kind of stain on my reputation.” Evie yawns but cracks a small grin. Her eyes scan over Jules, disheveled and half-asleep. “Going somewhere?”

“Vegas.” Jules shimmies into her skirt, throws more clothes into her bag. “I have to get to Vegas, I have to.”

“In the middle of the night?  _ Why? _ ”

“I just-- it's an emergency, I have to go.”

“Didn't you die there? Twice?”

“Yeah, but--”

“Why would you go  _ back? _ ”

Jules stops again and takes a deep breath. “I have to, Evie. The Legion has my friend and I have to go help her.”

“The one who ripped your throat out?”

“Evie--”

Silas joins his daughter in the doorway, just as much confusion in his face. “You two mind keepin’ it down?”

“Jules thinks she's going to Vegas to rescue the friend who murdered her.”

Silas’ head pivots to Jules as she rolls her eyes. “Right now? Have you lost your mind?”

“She needs my help, Silas, I can't abandon her!”

“You're gonna take on an _entire_ _army_ to save someone who _killed_ you without a second thought.”

“She'd do it-- she's _ done _ it for me. I can't leave her behind.” Jules throws on her jacket and zips up the bag. “Besides, I'm a demigod-- a  _ real _ demigod, Caesar's just a fake, he won't stand a chance, none of those motherfuckers will!” She ducks around him and starts marching out 

With a tired sigh and Evie trailing after him, Silas follows close behind, grabbing her by the shoulder before she can open the door. He straightens up and tries to imbue his voice with the proper paternal authority. “ _ Julia _ \--”

She whirls and slaps his hand away. “It's  _ Jules _ .”

“You go runnin’ off like this,  _ Jules _ , an’ you're gonna get yourself killed.  _ Again. _ ” He places a hand on the door, preventing her from opening it.

“So? It's not like I'm gonna  _ stay _ dead. Apparently a death goddess thinks I'm  _ interesting _ or something, or that's what she told me anyway.”

“ _ She told you?! _ ” Evie covers her mouth after the outburst but Silas and Jules pay her no mind.

“You can't--  _ expect _ to be resurrected over an’ over, Jules, I'm not lettin’ you run off to Vegas by by yourself!”

“Then go with me! Show Caesar what a  _ real _ demigod looks like before I break his neck.” Jules’ frown deepens as her nail dig into the heels of her hands.

Silas sighs again and rubs his forehead. “I can't just leave New Reno outta nowhere, Jules. You know what'd happen if I up and vanished? All hell’d break loose. It'd be a field day for the other families.”

"And I can't leave Lex behind with the Legion! She'll  _ die! _ ”

“She killed  _ you! _ Forget about her!”

“I can't! You don't-- I've seen the Legion up close, I  _ know _ what they're like and I can't  _ imagine _ what it's doing to her being their slave  _ again _ . Silas, you  _ have _ to let me go!”

“I don't  _ have _ to do anything! How's that saying go? 'What happens in Vegas’ is  _ none of our goddamn business _ .”

“'What happens in Vegas’ is  _ my fault! _ ”

_ Shit. _

Jules freezes, one hand still on the doorknob. Silas and Evie's eyes widen simultaneously; god, they know,  _ they know _ , how is she so  _ stupid?! _

“Evie--”

“Yes, sir.” She slinks back to her room, her gaze still glued to Jules.

Silas folds his arms across his chest. “Why is Vegas your fault, Jules?” Suspicion replaces discipline in his tone, like he's already anticipated what her answer will be.

“You know why.” She can't look at him, see the disappointment in his face.

“Maybe I do, maybe I don't--  _ maybe  _ you should  _ enlighten _ \--”

“I helped the Legion, okay? Happy?” Jules spins and slams her back against the door. “Everything Caesar told me to do I did and then some. I slaughtered camps full of NCR troopers-- I killed fucking  _ rangers-- _ I sabotaged their base on the Strip, I killed  _ Robert House _ with a  _ 9-iron _ \-- I destroyed a bunker full of people who'd done  _ nothing _ ...women and children, obliterated...I deceived a tribe into joining the Legion knowing full well they'd die or be enslaved, Silas, I sold someone who  _ saved my life _ to Caesar to be his own personal doctor when he told me he had brain cancer.” The words keep tumbling out of her mouth, momentum building the longer she goes on until she couldn't stop if she wanted to. “I killed the NCR general myself, beat him with a flagpole until he was barely conscious and snapped his neck with my own hands. The Legion won Hoover Dam because of me, I helped put a fascist in power over the entire Mojave because he told me he was a demigod and he was the only person who could help me get control over my magic and I was stupid enough to fall for it and what thanks did I get? I got marched through Freeside while Caesar's spymaster _ humiliated _ me and then burned me at the stake.”

She takes a shaky breath and glances up at Silas. His expression hasn't changed. “I have to go back and fix it-- try to fix it. Lex was the only person to actually give a damn about me in years, I can't leave her there. And...and I have to kill Caesar. For what he did to me. Without him the Legion falls apart.”

“Jules…” Silas presses a hand to his temples. “How're you gonna do that, Jules? There's an  _ army _ in New Vegas, you think you can just waltz in and get to Caesar?”

“I have god blood, I--”

“You  _ don't  _ know how to use it. All the god blood in the world ain't gonna help you if all you can do’s a few little magic tricks.”

He's right. Jules knows he is. She sighs and sinks to the floor. Rushing off like that, what a stupid idea, planning has never been her strong suit but god, this was one of the worst thought-out ideas she's had in a while. But she promised Lex, she  _ promised _ she'd help...she can feel Silas’ gaze still on her, watching, wheels turning in his head.

“Tell you what,” he says, finally. “I'll help you. I'll teach you whatever you want, you can go stab Caesar or whatever you wanna do to him, but you gotta stay in New Reno. You can't try an’ run off like this again. You belong here, you're part of the family, Jules. What do you say?”

She looks up at him and nods, slowly. “It has to be soon, though. I'm not letting the Legion get any farther than they already have.”

“They won't, don't you worry. We'll go as soon as you're ready to take 'em on.”

She nods again and pushes herself up to shuffle back to her room. Her bag drops from her shoulder with a soft  _ thud _ ; her boots follow one after the other and she doesn't even bother changing out of her normal clothes before flopping back onto her bed. Silas has a point but the longer she waits, the more the Legion can advance, the more torment Lex has to go through…

“Jules?” Evie's voice comes with two soft knocks on the still-open door.

“What.”

“I wanted to talk to you. Can I come in?”

Jules gives a non-committal hand wave and Evie slips in, shutting the door softly behind her. She perches on the bed, waiting for an acknowledgement from Jules that doesn't come. “So...you're Courier Six, huh.”

“Oh, god, don't--”

“I'm not gonna make a big deal out of it, promise, and I'm not gonna tell anyone. We don't really pay much attention to what's going on in Vegas. I mean we heard about you, sure, but no one really cared. Not like anything you did affected us.”

Jules snorts as she sits up and leans against the wall, holding a pillow in her lap. “Uh...thanks. I appreciate it.”

Evie nods. “I...I saw your tattoos, too.”

Jules can feel her face flush bright, bright red.

“I won't tell anyone about them either, I just-- I wanted you to know  _ I _ know so you don't feel like you have to lie about them to me but, like, I'm not gonna tell Mom or Dad or anything like that, don't worry about it.”

She nods and raises an eyebrow at Evie. “Did you just come here to talk about my old jobs or was there something else?”

“Oh, yeah, um...did you say you  _ talked _ to Death?”

“A death goddess, yeah, before you resurrected me. She said thanks for the wine, by the way.”

Evie shakes her head and scoots closer. “That wasn't a goddess. That was  _ Death _ .”

“...Death.”

“You know, the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse-- War, Famine, Pestilence…”

“Oh.” It takes a moment for the weight of Evie's words to sink in. “ _ Oh. _ ”

“Yeah. I went straight to the top to get you back.” Evie beams with pride. “And you said she thought you were  _ interesting? _ ”

“I...I guess.” Jules hugs her pillow tighter. “Is that good or bad?”

Evie shrugs. “Could go either way. Die again, I guess we'll find out.”


	48. Silas Bishop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silas discusses his daughter's future with the Hell Twins.

“Congratulations on your new daughter.” Gideon twirls a pen from his pocket and in his fingers it shifts into a cigar he offers to Silas. “For the proud father?”

Silas just stares at him, stone-faced, until he spins it back into his pocket with a shrug.

“Why didn't you tell us about her?” Iris flicks her lighter open and starts a cigarette of her own. “We're part of the family too, aren't we?”

“If I'd known about her, I would've.” Silas waves his hand and a small puff of wind extinguishes the cigarette just as it's lit. “As it is at least we're all on the same page here.”

“Hm.” Iris lights it again and takes a long drag. The smoke she exhales curls upwards in lazy spirals and shifting rainbows until Silas waves it away with another gust. “Whose is she?”

“An old girlfriend.”

“That much was obvious.”

“It doesn't matter, what  _ does _ is--”

“The McAllister girl?”

Silas slams his hands on his desk and bolts to his feet, glaring at Gideon. “Don't you go  _ near _ them. Not a  _ word  _ about Jules reaches their ears unless I say so, capische?”

“You don't give us enough credit, Mr. Bishop.” Gideon clutches his chest. “I'm  _ wounded _ .”

“So what are you going to  _ do _ with her?” Iris breathes another cloud of smoke, this one deepening to match the blood-red soles of her shoes and settling at her feet.

“She's my kid, I ain't just gonna kick her out on the street. She's family, we're gonna treat her as such.”

“Forgive me if this is...out of line, Mr. Bishop, but what are the odds she can make it with us?” She taps the ashes off her cigarette into a tray on Silas’ desk and meets his eyes with genuine concern. “Who is she-- some nobody from the Mojave, a little of the divine in her but…”

Silas shifts his glare over to her, lowering his voice. “You  _ are _ out of line,  _ Miss Benjamin _ . I'd suggest you fall back in.”

She purses her lips and stabs out her cigarette on her skirt; a wave of her free hand over the burn and it's gone, fabric stitching itself back together before her eyes.

“Jules is a Bishop,” Silas reiterates, “an’ I'm gonna teach her what that means for her. She belongs in New Reno, you’ll agree once you see what she can do.”

“Which is?”

“Two  words.” Silas cracks a slow grin. “New Vegas.”

Any trace of apathy drops off the twins’ faces.

“You're joking.” Gideon lowers himself into the empty chair by his sister.

“Not in the slightest.”

“Incredible.” Iris leans forward and folds her hands. “What kind of training does she have? It must be impressive if--”

“None whatsoever. Which is good news for us.”

“I fail to see--”

“She can learn how to do  _ anything _ .” Silas leans closer to meet her and lowers his voice again. “You spend too much time on one type a’ magic, the others gotta fall by the wayside. Evie, she's a damn good necromancer, but that's all she can do. With Jules, we got  _ so much _ untapped potential.”

Gideon nods. “She could  _ win _ this for us.  _ Forever. _ ”

“Now you're gettin’ it.” Silas’ grin broadens, then slips into a frown. “If I can get her to stay in New Reno, anyway.”

The twins tilt their heads in unison.

“She's got it in her head to go runnin’ off back to New Vegas, kill Caesar, rescue the dame that killed her-- it's a long story.”

“You can't let her do that,” Iris snaps. “She's too valuable to lose on some...doomed revenge mission.”

“Yeah, I know. I got her here for now, but--”

“Leave it to us, Mr. Bishop.” Gideon stands, brushing off his suit jacket and offering a hand up to his sister. “We can bring her around.”

“She's stubborn. You got your work cut out for you, Gideon.”

“I'd expect nothing less from one of  _ your _ children.”

“We'll figure her out,” Iris adds. She takes her brother's hand and straightens her hat. “It's our job, isn't it?”

Silas nods. “Whatever it takes.”

The twins pause in the doorway. “ _ Whatever _ it takes?” Gideon asks.

The silence drags on, and on, and on. When Silas finally speaks again it's quiet, hesitant, just a bit.

“Don't hurt her, alright? Won't be much use if she don't trust us.”

Gideon nods and ushers his sister out of the office.


End file.
